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ARRY 


I       FOR  OUR   REAPING 
!  3Y-AND-BY 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


MIRIAM   AND  TOM 


T.  NELSON    Ac   SONS 


DICK    AND    HARRY 
AND    TOM 


ffor  ©ur  IRcaping 


FLORENCE    E.    BURCH 

Author  of  "  No  Royal  Road."  "  A  Little  Boy  and  Girl ;  or.  How  Rollo  and 
Tricksy  filled  their  Money-Box," 


THOMAS    NELSON    AND    SONS 

London,  Edinburgh,  and  tV/nu  York 


I.  TOM,       ...       ...       ...  ...  ...  ...  7 

II.  WHAT  UNCLE  MERRY  BROUGHT,  ...  ...  ...  14 

in.  "GREAT"  AND  "GOOD,"      ...  ...  ...  ...  21 

IV.    KATIE  TRIES   TO  MAKE  AMENDS,  ...  ...  ...  27 

V.    RIGHTEOUS   INDIGNATION,        ...  ...  ...  ...  31 

vi.  MIRIAM'S  KNIGHT-ERBANT,    ...  ...  ...  ...  37 

VII.    HAYMAKING   BEGINS,                   ...  ...  ...  ...  42 

vin.  KATIE'S  SCHEME,      ...           ...  ...  ...  ...  50 

IX.    TOM  IS  IN  TOO  MUCH  OP  A   HURRY,     ...  ...  ...  55 

X.    STRANDED   HIGH   AND  DRY,    ...  ...  ...  ...  62 

XI.    IN  THE  COUNTRY,       ...                ...  ...  ...  ...  67 

XII.    ALWAYS  AFTER  MISCHIEF,       ...  ...  ...  ...  72 

XIII.  A  WHITE   LIE,               ...                ...  ...  ...  ...  78 

XIV.  PULLING  ONIONS,       ...                ...  ...  ...  ...  87 

XV.   TOM'S  GOLD  MEDAL,                   ...  ...  ...  ...  93 

XVI.    A   SAD   LOSS,                  ...                ...  ...  ...  ...  100 

XVII.    A   LETTER  TO  BERMONDSEY,   ...  ...  ...  ...  107 

xvin.  MIRIAM'S  WISH,       ...           ...  ...  ...  ...  110 

xix.  KATIE'S  FEAR,          ...           ...  ...  ...  ...  119 

XX.    SUSAN   GIVES   GOOD  ADVICE,  ...  ...  ...  123 

xxi.  MIRIAM'S  EYES  ARE  OPENED,  ...  ...  ...  127 

XXII.    TOM'S  GOOD  FAIRY,                      ...  ...  ...  ...  132 

XXIII.  AS   FIRE  MELTS  THE  DROSS  AWAY,       ...  ...  ...  138 

XXIV.  THE  NEW   SCHEME,    ...                ...  ...  ...  ...  141 

xxv.  UNCLE  MERRY'S  BAND,          ...  ...  ...  ...  144 

XXVI.   WON  OVER,                    ...               ...  ...  ...  ...  149 

XXVII.    A   MERRY   CHRISTMAS,                 ...  ...  ...  ...  153 

xxvni.  "PEACE  ON  EARTH,  GOOD  WILL  TOWARD  MEN,"  ...  157 


622752 


DICK    AND    HARRY 
AND   TOM. 


CHAPTER    I. 

TOM. 

"  Dick  and  Harry  and  Tom  ! 
Dick  and  Harry  and  Tom  ! 
They  teased  the  dog  and  worried  the  cat, 
And  drowned  the  kittens  in  their  grandfather's  hat, 
Did  Dick  and  Harry  and  Tom. " 

AS  the  sounds  died  away  a  face  appeared  above 
the  palings ;  and  two  mischievous  black  eyes 
peeped  over   at   Miriam,   who   was   seated   on   the 
trunk  of  a  fallen  tree  with  a  basket  of  primroses 
on  her  lap. 

The  tree  was  covered  with  lichen,  and  the  ground 
at  Miriam's  feet  was  one  mass  of  moss  and  creeping 
ivy,  primroses  and  wood-anemones,  and  all  those 
beautiful  little  plants  that  hasten  out  to  meet  the 
spring.  Close  at  hand  a  robin  was  carolling  right 


8  TOM. 

merrily,  and  the  plantation  was  full  of  the  song  of 
the  thrushes.  But  Miriam  scarcely  heard  them. 
She  had  been  singing  whilst  she  filled  her  basket ; 
now  she  was  resting  and  watching  the  anemones 
dancing  in  the  sunlight  that  gleamed  through  the 
branches  overhead. 

Miriam  was  hardly  thinking,  but  she  was  very 
much  pre-occupied  with  some  pictures  that  kept 
flitting  in  and  out  of  her  mind.  She  had  been  to 
a  birthday  party  overnight,  and  she  was  living  it 
all  over  again.  Now  she  saw  herself  in  her  cream- 
coloured  dress  with  the  blue  bows  on  it,  just  as  it 
looked  when  she  took  the  last  peep  in  the  glass 
before  starting.  Now  she  saw  Katie  Rivers  in  her 
white  one,  and  wished  she  had  glossy  dark  locks 
like  Katie's,  instead  of  stupid  dull  brown  ;  for  Katie 
could  wear  pink  ribbons  instead  of  blue.  Then  she 
saw  all  the  happy  faces  on  either  side  of  the  long 
tea-table ;  and  again,  the  brilliantly-lighted  drawing- 
room,  where  they  had  played  all  sorts  of  games. 
So  she  went  on,  running  over  all  that  they  had 
said  and  done,  until  at  last  in  imagination  she  was 
crossing  to  the  piano,  with  burning  cheeks,  to 
sing  "  Dick  and  Harry  and  Tom."  Now,  although 
Miriam  had  learned  this  song  on  purpose,  and 
practised  it  carefully,  when  it  came  to  standing  up 
by  the  piano,  her  heart  beat  so  fast  and  her  face 
grew  so  hot  that  she  was  nearly  ready  to  cry. 


TOM.  9 

Miriam  remembered  just  how  she  felt ;  and  she 
was  pretty  well  convinced  that  it  was  much  nicer 
to  sing  out  there  in  the  plantation  than  in  the 
drawing-room  with  everybody's  eyes  upon  her.  So 
she  jumped  down  from  her  seat,  and  sang  out  clear 
and  loud  as  she  went  on  gathering  her  primroses  ; 
and  if  the  birds  could  only  have  understood  her 
language,  they  would  all  have  stopped  to  listen  to 
the  long  list  of  naughty  things  which  these  three 
young  heroes  did. 

As  it  was,  they  only  flew  away  when  she  pushed 
in  among  the  branches,  and  went  on  with  their  own 
songs,  as  if  they  thought  them  far  the  prettiest. 

But  Miriam  had  not  known  all  this  while  that 
there  ivas  some  one  listening ;  so  it  was  no  wonder 
if  she  was  rather  startled  when  suddenly  a  boy, 
who  for  some  time  had  been  peeping  at  her  through 
a  knot-hole,  gave  a  shrill  whistle,  and  jumping 
up,  so  as  to  get  both  arms  on  to  the  fence,  hung 
there  looking  at  her,  with  a  broad  grin  on  his 
face. 

Miriam  started  up  and  dropped  her  basket ;  then, 
seeing  who  the  intruder  was,  turned  hot  all  over 
with  vexation. 

"  I'll  come  and  help  pick  up  the  primroses,"  called 
the  boy,  getting  one  leg  up  on  the  fence.  "  I  say, 
though,  that  was  pretty  ! " 

Miriam  was  too  hot  to  reply.      She  stooped  down 


10  TOM. 

in  silence  and  occupied  herself  in  gathering  up  the 
flowers. 

"  I  say,  though,"  shouted  the  boy  again,  "  pity 
you  didn't  practise  before  the  party  instead  of  after" 

Miriam's  cheeks  were  getting  redder  and  redder, 
but  still  she  took  no  notice. 

"  Katie  said  you  were  ready  to  cry,"  pursued  her 
tormentor ;  and  a  picture  rose  in  Miriam's  mind  of 
Katie  standing  by  the  piano  as  cool  as  a  cucumber 
while  her  clear,  sweet  voice  went  ringing  through 
the  room ;  and  looking  so  pretty  and  self-possessed 
as  she  returned  to  her  place  amid  the  general  ap- 
plause. 

Not  that  the  girls  withheld  their  applause  from 
Miriam.  They  were  always  good-natured  enough 
if  they  saw  any  one  was  nervous ;  but  it  hurt 
Miriam's  pride  to  think  that  they  only  did  it  to 
encourage  her.  And  then  for  Katie  to  go  and  tell 
it  round  that  she  was  ready  to  cry !  That  was 
more  than  she  could  bear.  "  I  don't  care  a  pin 
what  Katie  says  ! "  she  exclaimed  angrily  ;  "  and  it's 
no  business  of  yours,  Tom  Rivers  ! " 

"  I  daresay  not,"  said  Tom,  with  provoking  good- 
humour.  "  Tell  you  what  is  business  of  mine, 
though.  What  do  you  mean  by  telling  all  those 
fibs  about  me  ?  I  haven't  even  got  a  grandfather 
—  wish  I  had  !  You  could  just  as  well  say 
'  Bob.' " 


TOM.  1 1 

"  Bob  isn't  in  the  song,"  said  Miriam,  tossing  her 
head. 

"  That's  no  matter,"  said  Tom,  swinging  both  legs 
over  the  fence  and  jumping  down.  "  I  don't  choose 
to  have  such  things  sung  about  me ;  so  you'd  better 
promise,  or  else — 

"  I'm  not  going  to  promise  any  such  thing,"  said 
Miriam,  with  another  toss  of  her  head.  "  And  you've 
no  right  in  the  plantation  at  all ;  it  belongs  to  my 
father." 

"  No,  it  doesn't,"  retorted  Tom ;  "  because  your 
father  pays  rent  to  mine  for  it,  and  I'm  not  going 
till  I've  punished  you." 

Miriam's  basket  was  on  the  ground  at  her  feet, 
and  Tom,  who  by  this  time  had  approached  quite 
close,  snatched  it  up,  and  commenced  swinging  it 
about  by  the  handle. 

"  Oh,  don't !  "  cried  Miriam.  "  You'll  upset  them 
all  again." 

"Promise,  then,"  said  Tom — "'Dick  and  Harry 
and  Bob ! ' " 

But  Miriam  stood  out  firmly. 

"  Can  you  climb  a  tree  ? "  asked  Tom  suddenly. 
"  Katie  can." 

"  Of  course  I  could,  if  I  chose,"  said  Miriam. 

Tom  slung  the  basket  on  his  arm,  hugged  the 
trunk  of  a  big  lime  tree,  and  proceeded  to  draw 
himself  up,  scattering  primroses  as  he  went.  When 


12  TOM. 

he  was  some  height  up  he  hooked  the  basket  on  to 
a  twig,  chose  out  a  comfortable  seat  for  himself,  and 
folded  his  arms. 

"  Now  !  "  exclaimed  he. 

Miriam  was  in  a  fix.  It  was  plain  that  she  was 
in  Tom's  power,  and  that  sooner  or  later  she  would 
have  to  give  in.  She  always  had  to  in  the  end, 
when  Tom  took  it  into  his  head  to  tease — which 
was  rather  often. 

"  I  shall  tell  papa,"  she  said,  after  a  few  minutes. 

Tom  set  to  work  picking  little  bits  off  the  twigs 
and  dropping  them  down  upon  her  upturned  face. 

"  I  thought  you  could  climb,"  said  he.  "  Why 
don't  you  come  up  and  get  the  basket  ?  I'm  not  a 
baboon.  I  shouldn't  hurt  you ;  in  fact,  if  you  can 
get  up  here  we  won't  say  any  more  about  'Sob.' " 

"  Don't  they  smell  nice ! "  he  went  on,  drawing 
long  whiffs  of  their  delicate  scent,  as  Miriam  made 
no  reply.  "Ah  ! " 

"  You'd  better  bring  them  down  at  once,"  said 
Miriam  angrily,  "or  I'll  go  straight  home  and 
complain  to  papa." 

"  Wouldn't  it  like  one  ? "  said  Tom  in  a  coaxing 
tone;  "just  one?  Open  its  mouth!"  and  picking 
out  a  beauty,  he  dropped  it  right  on  her  face. 

This  was  more  than  Miriam  could  stand.  "  I'll 
tell  you  what  it  is,"  she  said :  "  you're  a  nasty,  dis- 
agreeable fellow,  and  I  hate  you,  Tom  Rivers ! " 


TOM.  \  3 

"  You  might  hate  the  man  in  the  moon,  but  you 
couldn't  get  at  him,"  jeered  Tom. 

"And  if  ever  I  get  a  chance  I'll  serve  you  out 
for  it— that  I  will !  " 

"  Oh !  pray,"  cried  Tom,  pretending  to  be  so 
frightened  that  he  made  the  whole  bough  tremble, 
"  what  shall  I  do  ? "  But  with  these  words  he 
nearly  lost  his  balance,  and  leaving  hold  of  the 
basket  to  save  himself,  it  fell  to  the  ground,  catch- 
ing among  the  twigs  in  its  descent,  and  scattering 
the  primroses  in  a  shower. 

Miriam  picked  up  the  basket  and  walked  slowly 
away. 

"  I  wish  you'd  fallen  instead,  and  broken  your 
neck ! "  she  muttered  as  she  went. 

"  That's  a  good  Christian  girl,"  Tom  called  after 
her. 

Miriam  knew  it  was  not  right  to  wish  anything 
so  dreadful,  but  somehow  she  could  not  help  it. 
Tom  was  always  teasing  her,  and  it  was  no  wonder 
if  she  thought  him  disagreeable.  So  when  she 
read  in  her  Bible,  "  Do  good  to  those  that  despite- 
fully  use  you  and  persecute  you,"  she  thought  it 
^hardly  meant  such  boys  as  Tom. 


CHAPTER    II. 
WHAT   UNCLE  MERRY  BROUGHT. 

IF  Tom  had  not  a  grandfather,  Miriam  had  a 
great-uncle.  In  fact  her  chief  object  in  taking 
her  primrose-basket  out  into  the  plantation  that 
morning  had  been  to  make  the  house  look  bright 
with  flowers,  for  Great-uncle  Merry  was  expected 
to  dinner. 

Miriam  had  got  so  angry  with  Tom  that  she 
positively  forgot  all  about  this  until  she  got  right 
indoors  and  smelt  the  fragrant  scent  of  baking. 
There  was  always  a  special  kind  of  cake  made  on 
these  occasions,  and  it  was  just  that  minute  out  of 
the  oven. 

The  smell  of  baking  brought  Uncle  Merry  to 
mind  at  once — but  not  the  flowers.  Miriam's 
thoughts,  which  were  in  the  habit  of  flying  very 
rapidly,  were  too  often  directed  upon  her  own 
interests.  Her  great -uncle  never  came  without 
bringing  her  a  present,  and  she  was  so  absorbed  in 
wondering  what  it  would  be  this  time  that  it  had 


WHAT  UNCLE  MERRY  BROUGHT.  15 

quite  slipped  her  mind  how  pretty  she  had  meant 
to  make  his  welcome.  Selfishness  is  a  wonderfully 
rampant  weed. 

" I  know  what  I  should  like"  said  Miriam  to 
herself,  flinging  down  the  basket  and  running  to 
the  dining-room  to  see  the  time. 

"Miss  Miriam  ! "  called  Susan  from  the  kitchen 
door. 

Miriam  gave  a  hasty  glance  at  the  timepiece  and 
hurried  out.  "  Just  time  to  change  my  frock,"  she 
said  to  herself  as  she  went. 

"Your  mamma  has  got  all  the  glasses  in  here, 
Miss  Miriam,"  said  Susan,  as  she  appeared. 

"  How  lovely  that  cake  smells  ! "  cried  Miriam. — • 
"  Glasses' !  what  glasses,  Sue  ?  " 

Miriam's  mother  answered.  "  For  the  primroses," 
replied  she  from  within ;  "  and  I  want  you  to  come 
at  once  and  arrange  them  for  me.  You  will  just 
have  time." 

Miriam's  countenance  fell. 

"  But  where  are  they  ? "  continued  her  mother, 
on  seeing  her  empty  hands.  "  Haven't  you  brought 
any,  after  all  ?  " 

"  I  did  pick  a  lot"  answered  Miriam,  beginning 
to  turn  red — "  a  whole  basketful." 

"  And  left  them  behind  ?  " 

"  It  was  that  nasty  boy  Tom  Rivers,"  answered 
Miriam,  looking  down.  "I  hate  him!  and  I  wish 


1 6  WHAT  UNCLE  MERRY  BROUGHT. 

he'd  fallen  instead  of  the  basket,  and  broken  his 
neck."     And  thereupon  she  related  how  Tom  had 
teased  her  about  her  song  and  carried  off  her  prim- 
roses up  the  tree.      "  I  wish  he'd  killed  himself  !  "  * 
repeated  Miriam. 

"  Gently,  gently!"  interposed  mamma.  "  I  hardly 
think  you  would  be  glad  to  see  your  friend  Katie 
in  such  terrible  trouble." 

"I  shouldn't  care,"  said  Miriam.  "Katie's  every 
bit  as  bad  as  Tom.  It  was  Katie  told  him  I  was 
ready  to  cry,  and  that  was  what  made  Tom  tease 
me.  I  hate  them  both."  And  away  she  skulked, 
with  a  face  as  black  as  pitch ;  so  Susan  had  to 
carry  back  the  flower-glasses  empty. 

Half-an-hour  later  the  hall  was  resounding  with 
Great-uncle  Merry's  voice,  which  was  as  cheery  as  his 
name  ;  and  Miriam  was  tugging  him  out  of  his  over- 
coat, dying  with  curiosity  to  know  what  was  in  the 
pockets,  and  wishing  she  might  poke  about  in  them 
to  see.  But  Great-uncle  Merry  had  his  own  ideas 
about  such  things.  Perhaps  he  thought  patience 
was  a  good  sauce  for  enjoyment ;  or  perhaps  he 
wanted  to  make  sure  that  it  was  himself  and  not 
the  present  that  Miriam  was  so  glad  to  see.  Any- 
how, not  until  his  watch  began  to  warn  him  it  was 
time  to  think  of  going  home  did  Uncle  Merry  say 
a  word  upon  the  subject. 

Miriam  was   perched   upon   the   arm    of    Great- 

(254) 


WHAT  UNCLE  MERRY  BROUGHT.  17 

uncle  Merry's  chair,  and  he  was  playing  with  her 
hair. 

"  Oh,  don't  go  yet,"  cried  Miriam,  as  he  felt  for 
his  chain.  "  Perhaps  if  you  weren't  to  look  at  the 
watch  the  hands  would  stop."  And  Miriam  tried 
to  hide  it  between  her  palms.  But  Great-uncle 
Merry  shook  his  head. 

"  If  the  hands  stop,  time  won't,"  said  he  sagely, 
rattling  his  bunch  of  seals ;  so  Miriam  had  to  give 
it  up. 

"  Ten  minutes  more,  and  then  I'm  off,"  said  Great- 
uncle  Merry.  "  But,  by-the-by,  I  haven't  said  a 
word  of  what  I've  brought  for  you.  Now  guess." 

"  A  pocket  full  of  air,"  said  Miriam  saucily. 

Great-uncle  Merry  made  a  face,  declaring  himself 
half  a  mind  to  let  her  abide  by  her  guess.  But 
Miriam  begged  and  prayed  so  that  his  dear  old  heart 
was  softened. 

"  What  do  you  want  most  of  all  ? "  asked  he. 

Miriam  thought  a  minute,  then  made  as  if  to 
speak,  but  held  her  tongue,  as  though  she  didn't 
like  to  say. 

"  Well,"  said  Uncle  Merry,  "  time's  half  up." 

Miriam  clasped  her  hands.  "  O  Uncle  Merry,  I 
did  want  a  lovely  gold  locket  like  Katie  were  last 
night,"  said  she,  in  her  most  coaxing  way. 

"  You  did  ? "  said  Uncle  Merry.  "  Just  like  all 
the  lasses,  full  of  vanity !  Well,  let's  see  what  I've 

(254)  2 


1 8  WHAT   UNCLE  MERRY  BROUGHT. 

got ; "  and  after  fumbling  mysteriously  in  his  waist- 
coat pocket  he  drew  out  a  bright  new  half-sovereign. 
"Now  you  can  please  yourself,"  said  he.  "Mind 
you  spend  it  well." 

Miriam  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
fairly  smothered  him.  "  Oh,  you  dear  old  Uncle 
Merry  ! "  she  began.  But  Uncle  Merry  shook  her 
off  and  went  to  get  his  coat. 

Meanwhile  Tom  had  gone  home  to  tell  Katie 
what  a  pet  Miriam  was  in  about  the  primroses. 

Now  Tom  was  not  altogether  bad,  only  he  had 
a  sad  love  of  teasing.  He  had  only  intended  to 
plague  Miriam  a  little  at  first  about  the  song ;  but 
when  she  turned  so  red  he  could  not  resist  the  temp- 
tation of  jumping  over  the  palings  and  carrying  off 
her  basket.  Even  then  he  did  not  mean  to  leave  it 
up  the  tree,  and  upsetting  it  was  quite  an  accident. 
But  when  Miriam  lost  her  temper  and  got  so  angry, 
Tom  altogether  forgot  that  he  was  in  the  wrong, 
and  he  felt  very  proud  of  himself  up  there,  swinging 
his  legs  and  whistling,  as  he  watched  her  out  of  the 
plantation.  Then  he  got  out  his  knife,  and  cut  his 
name  on  the  tree. 

At  last,  after  waiting  a  long  while  to  see  if  Miriam 
would  come  back  as  soon  as  she  fancied  he  was  gone, 
he  began  to  get  cold  and  hungry ;  so  he  shut  his 
knife  up  with  a  click  and  descended. 

"  Wasn't  she  ivild ! "  said  he  to  himself,  as  he 


WHAT   UNCLE  MERRY  BROUGHT.  19 

stepped  over  the  heap  of  primroses  and  made  for 
the  palings  ;  "  and  won't  Katie  laugh  ! " 

But  Katie  didn't  laugh.  "  0  Tom,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  how  could  you  be  so  unkind  ?  You  ought  to  go 
right  back  and  gather  another  basketful  for  her." 

"  Catch  me,"  laughed  Tom.  "  How  red  she  got, 
though  ! " 

"  I  think  it  was  very  mean  of  you,"  said  Katie. 
•'  You  knew  she  couldn't  get  the  basket  if  you  put 
it  up  there.  It  wasn't  kind  to  tease  her  about  her 
song  either." 

"  All  very  fine,"  retorted  Tom.  "  Who  told  me 
she  was  ready  to  cry  ?  " 

"  But  I  didn't  intend  to  tease  her  about  it,"  said 
Katie  ;  "  and  I  clapped  my  hands  till  they  smarted." 

"  You're  just  like  a  girl,"  said  Tom,  turning  on 
his  heel.  "  They're  like  weathercocks.  They  go 
whichever  way  the  wind  blows.  That's  why  boys 
can't  play  with  them." 

"  O  Tom,"  cried  Katie,  "  I  learned  to  climb  trees 
and  jump  ditches  on  purpose  to  be  able  to  play  with 
you,  and  I  always  stand  up  for  you  ;  now,  don't  I  ? " 

"  What's  the  use  of  that  ?  "  snarled  Tom.  "  As  if 
I  was  a  baby,  and  wanted  any  one  to  stand  up  for 
me  ! "  and  off  he  stalked  to  examine  his  new  rabbit- 
hutch,  looking  very  big.  But  in  reality  Tom  felt 
rather  small ;  for  he  cared  a  good  deal  about  Katie's 
opinion,  and  it  spoilt  the  fun  of  teasing  Miriam  to 


20  WHAT  UNCLE  MERRY  BROUGHT. 

think  that  Katie  didn't  approve.  He  didn't  half 
enjoy  the  new  rabbit-hutch  all  alone  either  ;  so  he 
went  to  peep  in  at  the  stable  door,  and  startled  the 
pony  by  calling,  "  Gee-up  ! "  Then  he  marched 
off  to  the  poultry-yard,  and  amused  himself  by 
making  the  hens  believe  that  he  was  going  to  feed 
them ;  and  when  they  came  tiptoe,  stretching  up 
their  necks  to  see  what  he  had  got  for  them,  he 
opened  his  hand  and  showed  that  it  was  empty. 

At  last,  however,  they  found  out  that  he  was 
only  making  fun  of  them,  and  declined  to  take  any 
further  notice ;  so  Tom  had  to  think  of  something 
else  to  do.  But  he  took  good  care  to  keep  out  of 
Katie's  way  till  dinner-time. 


CHAPTER    III 

"GREAT"  AND   "GOOD:' 

IMMEDIATELY  after  dinner  Katie  slipped  round 
to  Tom's  side.  "  Let's  go  in  the  woods,  Tom," 
whispered  she.  "  I  do  so  want  to  get  some  violets 
down  by  the  brook.  We  can  cross  on  the  stones, 
like  we  did  last  time." 

But  Tom  grumbled  something  about  not  being  in 
the  humour. 

Katie  began  to  coax.  "O  Tom,"  begged  she, 
"  the  Easter  holidays  will  be  up  the  day  after  to- 
morrow, you  know,  and  it  may  rain  to-morrow. 
You  had  the  rabbit-hutch  to  paint  yesterday ;  but 
now  that's  done,  and  looks  so  nice,  you  might  go." 

Tom  would  have  said  yes  at  once  if  it  had  not 
been  for  what  Katie  had  said  about  Miriam  ;  how- 
ever, he  brightened  up  when  she  began  to  praise  the 
rabbit-hutch.  "I  must  feed  the  rabbits  first,"  said  he. 

Katie  skipped  off  to  get  her  hat,  without  waiting 
for  any  further  answer;  and  in  a  very  short  space  of 
time  they  were  on  their  road,  as  good  friends  as  ever. 


22  "GREAT"  AND  "GOOD." 

The  way  they  chose  led  from  the  farm-yard  across 
some  fields,  and  through  a  little  copse  on  the  hill- 
side to  the  brook,  beyond  which  lay  the  woods. 
There  were  plenty  of  anemones  in  the  copse,  and 
a  good  many  violets  peeping  out  in  little  clusters 
from  amongst  the  grass.  But  Katie  did  not  want 
to  stop  for  these,  so  they  pushed  on. 

The  hazel  bushes  grew  thicker  and  more  tangled 
the  nearer  they  were  to  the  brook,  and  swished 
their  long  green  catkins  in  Katie's  face  as  she  tried 
to  keep  up  with  Tom.  This  was  no  easy  matter, 
for  they  caught  her  dress  and  held  her  back  ;  but 
she  fought  bravely  on  until  they  arrived  at  the 
hurdle  fence.  Katie  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  Now  for  it,"  said  Tom,  placing  his  hand  on  the 
top  bar. 

"  Once,  twice,  thrice ! "  cried  Katie,  and  in  less 
than  a  minute  they  were  on  the  other  side. 

"  Not  many  girls  can  do  like  that,"  said  Tom, 
with  an  air  of  pride.  "  You're  as  good  as  a  boy  to 
go  out  with." 

The  brook  was  low,  for  it  was  dry  weather ;  so 
they  got  down  and  walked  along  on  the  pebbles, 
with  the  high  banks  towering  up  above  them,  and 
the  willows  overhead  reaching  down  their  gray  tufts 
as  if  they  longed  for  a  dip  in  the  clear  bright  stream. 
Here  and  there  the  bed  of  the  brook  was  so  narrow 
and  muddy  that  they  had  to  clamber  up  again ; 


"GREAT"  AND  "GOOD."  23 

which  was  rather  a  difficult  undertaking,  because 
the  bank  had  been  washed  away  in  winter  when 
the  stream  was  swollen  with  the  melted  snow,  and 
it  was  by  no  means  easy  to  get  a  foothold. 

The  worst  place  of  all  was  where  the  copse  came 
to  an  end,  and  the  brook  flowed  on  between  two 
fields.  The  water  was  quite  deep  here  ;  and  a  ditch, 
surmounted  by  a  hedge,  stood  between  them  and 
the  field.  Fortunately,  however,  in  the  hedge  was 
a  gap,  which  had  merely  been  stopped  up  with  a 
hurdle.  They  had  only  to  leap  the  ditch  and  climb 
the  bank,  and  it  would  be  easy  to  get  over. 

"  Forward  !  "  shouted  Tom,  suiting  the  action  to 
the  word.  "Into  the  trench  and  scale  the  ramparts!" 

Katie  obeyed  the  word  of  command ;  and  after 
a  few  slips  and  a  little  scrambling  they  conquered 
the  difficulty,  and  were  soon  half-way  up  the 
field ;  then  across  the  brook,  where  some  flat  stones 
made  a  regular  ford,  and  into  the  wood. 

Here  the  ground  was  studded  with  the  delicate 
blossoms  of  the  primrose  and  wood-anemone,  peeping 
out  from  among  their  pale  green  leaves,  and  cluster- 
ing around  the  roots  of  the  trees  as  if  they  loved 
the  dear  old  friends  who  had  cast  such  a  warm 
mantle  over  them  during  the  winter  frost.  Katie 
began  gathering  at  once,  whilst  Tom  dug  up  some 
roots  with  his  knife,  and  then  set  to  work  at  his 
favourite  occupation  of  cutting  his  initials  on  a  tree. 


24  "GREAT"  AND  "GOOD." 

As  soon  as  her  basket  was  full,  Katie  came  and 
looked  over  Tom,  who  was  just  finishing  the  R. 

"  How  big  you've  made  the  letters,  Tom  ! "  she 
cried. 

"  They  won't  grow  up  in  a  hurry,"  observed  Tom, 
twisting  his  head  on  one  side,  and  stepping  back  a 
little  to  see  the  effect.  "  It's  like  making  your  mark 
in  the  world.  Our  usher  says  that  if  you  want  to 
do  that  you  mustn't  be  afraid  of  work,  because  only 
great  actions  bring  lasting  fame." 

Tom  looked  as  if  he  had  said  something  very 
grand,  as  he  put  his  knife  in  his  pocket ;  but  Katie's 
face  wore  a  thoughtful  expression. 

"  Our  governess  says  it  doesn't  so  much  matter 
about  being  great,"  she  said,  "as  long  as  we're  good." 

"  That's  all  very  well  for  girls,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but 
it  wouldn't  do  for  boys  and  men — soldiers  for  in- 
stance. Soldiers  have  to  be  brave,  and  do  great 
things." 

"Only  Miss  Ansell  says  the  little  things  show  what 
we're  made  of,"  rejoined  Katie ;  "  and  that  if  we're 
made  of  the  right  stuff  we  shall  be  brave  without 
thinking  about  it,  when  there's  any  need." 

Miss  Ansell  was  quite  right,  and  Katie  had 
understood  exactly  what  she  meant.  If  boys  and 
girls  are  made  of  the  true  metal  they  will  grow  up 
to  be  like  good  tools,  ready  for  use  whenever  the 
Master's  hand  has  need  of  them ;  and  the  only  way 


"GREAT"  AND  "GOOD."  25 

to  be  "  faithful  in  that  which  is  greatest "  is  to  he 
"  faithful  in  that  which  is  least." 

"  Do  girls  ever  cut  their  initials  on  trees  ? "  asked 
Katie  presently. 

"  I  don't  think  they  do,"  said  Tom ;  "  but  you 
might,  because  you  can  climb  almost  like  a  boy — 
only  don't  break  my  new  knife." 

Katie  laughed  and  took  the  knife  in  her  hand  ; 
and  after  some  pains,  and  a  very  little  assistance, 
soon  succeeded  in  carving  a  very  creditable  "  K  R  " 
— though  the  K  looked  rather  as  if  it  had  a  mind 
to  kick  the  R  round  to  the  other  side  of  the  trunk. 

Then  they  went  on  again  to  the  bank  where  the 
violets  grew ;  and  by  the  time  they  had  gathered 
enough,  the  sun  warned  them  that  it  was  time  to 
go  home ;  so  they  turned  back,  Tom  carrying  the 
roots,  and  Katie  the  flowers. 

They  had  decided  upon  returning  a  different  way, 
which  would  bring  them  home  by  the  lane  that  led 
past  the  plantation,  because  Katie  wanted  some 
small-leafed  ivy  off  the  fence.  Tom's  knife  had  to 
come  out  again  to  strip  it  off,  it  clung  so  tightly  to 
the  wood ;  meanwhile  Katie  amused  herself  with 
peeping  over. 

"  I  wish  we  lived  here,"  said  she.  "  It  would  be 
so  nice  to  play  at  wild  Indians  all  among  these  big 
trees.  And  oh !  look,  Tom — there's  such  a  beauty 
has  been  blown  down.  It  will  be  chopped  up  for 


26  "GREAT"  AND  "GOOD? 

faggots  now.  What  a  pity  !"  (It  was  the  very  one 
Miriam  had  been  sitting  on  that  morning.) 

"  My  name  is  up  that  one,"  said  Tom,  pointing  to 
the  lime  tree,  "  ever  so  high." 

"  Is  it  ? "  cried  Katie,  who  was  always  proud  of 
Tom's  achievements.  "  When  did  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  This  morning,"  said  Tom,  suddenly  remembering 
about  Miriam. 

"  Oh — "  said  Katie,  who  remembered  too. 

WThen  they  got  opposite  the  garden  gate  Katie 
stopped.  "  Tom,"  said  she,  "  I've  a  lot  more  prim- 
roses than  I  shall  want.  Shall  we  go  and  give 
Miriam  some  ? " 

"  She  can  get  plenty  in  the  plantation,"  said  Tom. 

"  But  we  might  give  her  some  of  these,"  said  Katie. 

"  I  don't  see  why  we  should  pick  flowers  for  her'' 
grumbled  Tom. 

"  But  you  know,"  began  Katie,  "  you  upset — 

"  Well,  she  shouldn't  have  been  in  such  a  temper," 
interrupted  Tom,  who,  to  tell  the  truth,  was  heartily 
ashamed  of  himself,  though  he  was  too  proud  to 
own  it. 

But  Katie  persisted. 

"  I  should  like  to  give  her  some,  if  you  wouldn't 
mind  going  on  without  me,"  said  she. 

"All  very  fine,"  grumbled  Tom,  as  the  gate  swung 
after  her.  "  I  went  on  purpose  to  please  you,  and 
now  I'm  to  go  home  by  myself." 


CHAPTER   IV. 

KATIE   TRIES   TO  MAKE  AMENDS. 

MIRIAM  was  just  returning  from  the  henhouse 
with  a  basket  of  new-laid  eggs  for  Great- 
uncle  Merry,  when  Katie  ran  up  the  path  calling, 
"  Miriam,  I've  brought  you  some  primroses." 

Miriam  walked  slowly  towards  her. 

"  Who  said  I  wanted  any  primroses  ? "  she  asked 
sullenly. 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  sure  to  like  some,"  re- 
plied Katie.  "  We've  been  into  the  wood  for  them, 
and  I  don't  want  more  than  half  of  what  we've 
gathered.  See  what  a  quantity !  Aren't  they 
lovely  ? " 

"  They're  very  pretty,"  said  Miriam,  who  would 
really  have  liked  some  for  her  great-uncle  to  take 
home  with  him.  "  But  I  don't  want  them.  I  can 
get  plenty.  They're  common  enough." 

Katie  thought  this  a  very  ungracious  way  of 
receiving  her  offer ;  but  she  was  determined  to  be 
good-natured. 


28          KATIE    TRIES    TO  MAKE  AMENDS. 

"  Won't  you  have  some  violets  ? "  she  asked ; 
"  they're  sweet-smelling  ones." 

"  Mamma  doesn't  like  them  in  the  house,"  replied 
Miriam  ;  "  they  make  her  head  ache.  No,  thank  you, 
Kate ;  I  won't  rob  you." 

"You  wouldn't  be  robbing  me,"  Katie  assured 
her ;  "  I  gathered  plenty  on  purpose,  because  I  knew 
you  were  fond  of  them,  and — I  wanted  to  make  up 
for  Tom  being  so  rude  this  morning,"  she  added. 

"  What  difference  will  your  violets  make  to  that  ? " 
said  Miriam  disdainfully.  "  I've  no  doubt  you've 
both  been  laughing  about  it.  Anyhow,  I  don't  sup- 
pose Tom  is  sorry,  is  he  ? " 

Katie  couldn't  truthfully  say  she  thought  he 
was. 

"  I  don't  want  any  flowers  that  Tom  has  picked," 
Miriam  went  on  ;  "  nor  yet  any  that  you've  picked 
either,  for  you're  just  as  bad." 

"  Miriam  !  "  cried  Katie,  "/  never  tease  you." 

"  You  told  Tom  I  was  ready  to  cry  at  the  party," 
said  Miriam  angrily.  "  But  I  don't  care  for  either  of 
you ;  and  I  can't  stay  talking  now,  because  mamma 
is  waiting  for  these  eggs  for  Great-uncle  Merry ; " 
and  so  saying,  off  she  marched,  leaving  Katie  in  the 
middle  of  the  path. 

Katie  turned  and  walked  slowly  back. 

Tom  was  still  outside  the  gate  waiting  for  her. 

"  Hullo  !"  cried  he ;  "wouldn't  she  have  'em?    Ho  ! 


KATIE   TRIES   TO  MAKE  AMENDS.          29 

isn't  she  proud  ?  I  tell  you,  Katie,  it's  of  no  use 
troubling  about  her ;  only  you're  just  like  a  girl." 

"  But  you  were  in  the  wrong,  Tom,"  said  his  sis- 
ter, "  so  it's  for  us  to  try  and  make  it  up.  Perhaps 
she'd  have  taken  them  if  you'd  gone  with  me  and 
said  you  were  sorry." 

" I  wasn't  going  to  do  that"  said  Tom  doggedly. 

It  was  plain  argument  would  do  no  good ;  so 
Katie  dropped  the  subject,  and  Tom  stalked  on  in 
dignified  silence  a  step  or  two  ahead,  swinging  his 
bundle  of  roots  and  whistling. 

This  was  not  a  very  nice  ending  to  their  happy 
afternoon.  Katie  almost  wished  she  had  not  persisted 
in  offering  Miriam  the  flowers,  since  it  had  made 
matters  rather  worse  than  better.  This  Katie  was 
a  peace-loving  little  maiden,  and  she  was  racking 
her  brains  to  think  what  she  could  say  to  bring  Tom 
round.  She  was  just  about  to  speak,  when  a  sudden 
hue  and  cry  some  little  way  behind  made  them  both 
turn  sharply  round. 

A  small  boy,  barefoot  and  bareheaded,  was  tear- 
ing full  speed  down  the  road  'after  them  ;  and  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  yards  behind,  but  rapidly  gaining 
on  him,  was  another  bigger  boy,  with  a  stout  stick 
in  his  hand. 

"  That's  Dick  Bull  at  his  tricks  again,"  cried  Tom, 
forgetting  all  about  Miriam  and  the  flowers.  "  Hi ! 
stop  there  !  stop,  I  say  !  " 


30          KATIE    TRIES    TO  MAKE  AMENDS. 

But  Dick  showed  no  signs  of  paying  any  heed. 

"  Stop  there  ! "  shouted  Tom  again,  taking  a  step 
or  two  out  to  meet  him,  and  holding  up  his  hand. 
But  Dick  only  grinned  savagely,  and  swung  the 
stick  around  his  head,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  Keep 
clear ! " 

He  was  now  almost  close  upon  the  poor  fugitive, 
whose  face  was  crimson  with  terror  and  exertion. 
A  minute  more  and  he  would  be  within  reach.  The 
wretched  child,  who  was  not  much  more  than  half 
his  size,  seemed  to  feel  Dick's  breath  upon  his  neck. 
He  turned  to  cast  a  terrified  backward  glance, 
swerved  sideways,  and,  tripping  on  a  little  heap  of 
turf  cutting,  fell  full  length,  with  his  arms  before 
him,  and  his  face  in  a  bed  of  nettles. 

Dick  uttered  a  yell  of  delight,  and  rushing  for- 
ward, seized  upon  the  poor  wretch  and  fell  to 
belabouring  him  unmercifully  with  the  stick.  But 
now  was  Tom's  time  to  show  his  mettle.  Flinging 
aside  his  bundle  of  roots,  he  sprang  across  the  road, 
and  seized  the  young  ruffian  by  the  collar. 


CHAPTER  V. 
RIGHTEOUS  INDIGNATION. 

DICK  BULL  was  a  year  older  than  Tom,  and 
a  size  bigger — a  lad  with  the  making  of  a 
bully  in  him.  But  Tom  didn't  stop  to  think  about 
that.  All  he  knew  was  that  poor,  half-witted  little 
Tim — Dick's  step-brother — was  on  the  ground,  with 
his  face  in  a  bed  of  nettles ;  and  that  no  boy  with 
a  grain  of  pluck  in  him  ought  to  stand  by  and  see 
a  fellow  knocked  about  when  he  was  down. 

"  Come  off  him  !  "  shouted  he,  tugging  with  might 
and  main  at  Dick's  collar.  "  Let  him  get  up,  or  you 
shall  be  sorry  !  " 

"  You  dare  to  interfere,"  bellowed  Dick,  without 
relaxing  hold.  "  It's  no  business  of  yours.  Hold 
off,  or  I'll  let  you  know  it."  And  slashing  round 
with  his  stick,  Dick  caught  Tom  such  a  blow  across 
the  knuckles  as  brought  the  water  to  his  eyes. 

"  Stop  that !  "  cried  Tom,  "  and  let  him  be,  I  say." 
And  with  a  tremendous  effort  he  pulled  Dick  off  and 
threw  him  down  on  the  ground. 


32  RIGHTEOUS  INDIGNATION. 

But  Dick  was  up  in  an  instant,  and  turned  upon 
him  savagely.  "What  business  have  you  to  meddle ?" 
yelled  he,  squaring  up  to  Tom. 

"  What  business  have  you  to  ill-use  that  poor 
fellow  ? "  said  Tom,  getting  between  him  and  his 
step-brother.  "  Let  him  go  home,  or  I'll  have  you 
sent  to  jail  for  it." 

"  Get  out  of  my  way,  or  I'll  smash  your  head  in!" 
roared  Dick.  "  I'll  fight  you,  and  teach  you  to  mind 
what  don't  concern  you." 

"  O  Tom  ! "  cried  Katie  in  alarm,  "  don't  fight." 
But  Tom's  jacket  was  already  off. 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  you,"  said  he  to  Dick,  rolling 
up  his  sleeves.  "  You're  bigger  than  I  am,  but 
you're  a  coward,  or  you  wouldn't  be  so  mean  as  to 
ill-use  a  boy  that  can't  defend  himself." 

"  He  should  learn  to  mind  what  I  say,"  retorted 
Dick ;  "  and  if  he  hasn't  got  wits  enough  to  learn 
any  other  way,  he  must  be  taught  with  a  stick." 

"  I'll  give  you  a  thrashing  first,"  threatened  Tom 
stoutly,  "  or  take  it  myself." 

"  Come  on,  then!"  yelled  Dick,  throwing  away  his 
stick,  and  rushing  forward  with  such  a  tremendous 
blow  at  Tom's  chest  that  Tom  staggered  backward, 
and  for  the  instant  all  the  breath  seemed  gone  out 
of  his  body. 

Dick  uttered  a  jeering  laugh,  thinking  he  had 
given  Tom  his  quietus.  "  That's  a  taste  for  you," 


RIGHTEOUS  INDIGNATION.  33 

said  he,  making  towards  him  again,  "  and  I  don't 
recommend — 

But  before  he  could  finish  Tom  had  recovered, 
and  was  up  and  at  him  ;  and  for  several  seconds 
blows  on  both  sides  fell  fast  and  thick. 

Tom,  like  most  other  boys,  had  had  his  share  of 
fighting  to  do  at  school,  though  he  was  not  one  to 
seek  a  quarrel.  He  knew  how  to  guard  and  parry ; 
but  Dick  fought  with  the  desperateness  of  a  bully, 
and  before  long  Tom's  face  was  getting  pretty  well 
knocked  about. 

Katie  looked  on  in  terrible  distress,  whilst  Tim, 
who  by  this  time  had  got  up  out  of  the  nettles, 
had  gathered  himself  together  for  a  run,  and  was 
making  the  best  of  a  speedy  retreat,  crying  and 
rubbing  his  blistered  face  as  he  went. 

Meanwhile  Tom's  blood  was  too  much  up  to  let 
him  heed  his  bruises.  He  began  to  wonder,  though, 
how  much  longer  he  could  hold  out,  for  he  was 
getting  terribly  out  of  breath.  But  suddenly  Tom 
thought  of  a  manoeuvre  he  had  seen  done  at  school. 
All  in  a  minute,  just  as  Dick  drew  in  his  fist  to 
launch  one  of  his  terrific  blows,  Katie  saw  Tom  duck 
his  head  and  rush  forward,  closing  with  Dick  in  a 
desperate  embrace.  For  a  short  time  they  hugged  and 
tussled,  and  swayed  and  wrestled,  Dick  threatening 
every  minute  to  crush  the  breath  out  of  his  slighter 
adversary ;  but  just  when  it  seemed  as  if,  by  sheer 

(254)  3 


34  RIGHTEOUS  INDIGNATION. 

force  of  superior  weight,  Dick  must  press  him  down 
to  the  ground,  Tom  himself  suddenly  stooped,  thrust 
one  leg  forward,  gripped  Dick  below  the  centre  of 
gravity,  and  before  he  knew  what  was  happening, 
had  him  sprawling  on  the  ground. 

"  There  !  "  said  he.  "  Perhaps  that'll  teach  you 
that  it  doesn't  always  do  to  bully  boys  who  are 
smaller  than  yourself." 

Then  picking  up  his  jacket,  and  beckoning  Katie 
to  follow,  Tom  turned  homeward,  leaving  the  fallen 
braggart  to  pick  himself  up. 

Meanwhile  Tom  was  at  leisure  to  examine  his 
own  knuckles,  which  were  considerably  cut  and 
bruised. 

"  How  does  my  face  look,  Katie  ? "  he  asked, 
turning  full  towards  her. 

Poor  tender-hearted  Katie  was  horrified  at  his 
appearance ;  but  bad  as  that  was,  Tom  looked  ten 
times  worse  an  hour  afterwards,  when,  having 
related  the  story  of  his  encounter,  and  got  his 
bruises  bandaged  with  raw  beef,  he  sat  down  to 
tea. 

"  I  never  beat  a  fellow  with  so  much  satisfaction," 
said  he,  though,  as  he  fell  to  work  on  the  bread  and 
butter;  for  between  the  excursion  to  the  woods, 
and  the  fight  with  Dick,  and  the  delay  consequent 
on  bathing  and  dressing  his  damaged  head  and 
hands,  Tom's  appetite  was  pretty  keen. 


RIGHTEOUS  INDIGNATION.  35 

Mrs.  Rivers  was  inclined  to  look  rather  seriously 
at  it. 

"  I  don't  like  your  getting  into  fights  with  boys 
of  Dick's  sort,"  said  she. 

"  But  I  guess  you  wouldn't  have  liked  to  see  me 
stand  by,  mother,  and  let  him  flog  Tim,"  returned 
the  young  hero.  "  That's  a  thing  I  couldn't  do," 
added  Tom  with  conviction;  "and  I  fancy  I've 
given  him  a  lesson  he  won't  forget  in  a  hurry." 

"  Was  he  much  hurt  ?  "  Katie  asked. 

"  Not  more  than  he  deserved,"  answered  Tom 
promptly.  "I  made  sure  of  that  before  I  came 
away.  You  always  do,  you  know,"  added  Tom, 
with  an  air  of  importance  that  caused  his  mother 
to  smile  in  spite  of  herself,  "  when  you  fight  a  fel- 
low. But  you  can  see  at  a  glance  if  he's  really 
damaged,"  he  concluded.  "  Dick  was  only  humbled." 

"  I  don't  like  fighting,"  Tom  confided  to  Katie 
afterwards.  "  But  there  is  such  a  thing  as  righteous 
indignation,  you  know,  and  when  that  gets  hold  of  a 
fellow  he  has  to  fight." 

"  Like  the  old  knights  used  to,"  said  Katie  ad- 
miringly. 

"  Only  they  used  to  fight  on  horseback,"  said 
Tom ;  "  and  it  was  generally  on  behalf  of  some  girl 
or  other.  Nobody  was  thought  anything  of  who 
wasn't  ready  to  give  his  life  for  a  girl." 

Katie's  thoughts  reverted  to  Miriam  in  the  plan- 


36  RIGHTEOUS  INDIGNATION. 

tation,  and  she  couldn't  help  wondering  what  would 
have  been  the  verdict  in  those  chivalrous  old  times 
on  a  boy  who  should  behave  as  rudely  to  a  girl  as 
Tom  had  done  to  her. 

But  as  regarded  the  effect  of  the  lesson  he  had 
taught  Dick,  Tom  was  mistaken,  and  Dick  was  only 
the  more  spiteful  to  his  afflicted  little  step-brother 
for  the  defeat  he  had  sustained  at  the  hands  of 
Tim's  champion. 

Meanwhile  Tom's  knuckles  healed,  and  the  bruises 
on  his  face  turned  from  black  to  green,  and  from 
green  to  brown,  until  by  the  end  of  the  week  it  was 
doubtful  whether  there  would  be  much  trace  of  them 
left  to  show  to  the  boys  at  school  by  the  following 
Monday. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MIRIAM'S  KNIGHT-ERRANT. 

TOM  saw  no  more  of  Dick  Bull  before  the  holi- 
days were  up,  partly  because  for  the  first  two 
days  he  himself  was  such  an  unsightly  object  that 
he  preferred  not  showing  his  face  to  the  general 
public,  and  partly  because  if  Dick  had  chanced  to 
see  Tom  coming  in  his  direction  he  would  have  got 
out  of  the  way  in  double-quick  time. 

In  the  meanwhile  Tom  had  another  opportunity 
of  exercising  his  disposition  to  chivalry. 

Saturday  turned  out  such  a  beautiful  day  that, 
after  a  due  inspection  of  his  looking-glass,  Tom  de- 
clared he  should  hang  about  the  garden  no  longer. 
Unfortunately,  however,  Katie  had  to  stay  indoors, 
because  the  dressmaker  was  coming  to  see  about  some 
alterations  in  a  dress  which  did  not  sit  quite  right ; 
so  Tom  had  to  go  by  himself. 

Fact  was,  -Tom  had  grown  heartily  tired  of  the 
garden.  For  the  first  day  or  two  the  stiff,  swollen 
state  of  his  face  had  kept  reminding  him  that  he 


38  MIRIAM'S  KNIGHT-ERRANT. 

was  a  bit  of  a  hero ;  and  of  course  heroes  do  differ- 
ent things  from  ordinary  people.  But  as  the  bruises 
healed  Tom  gradually  descended  from  his  pedestal, 
and  became  once  more  an  ordinary  sort  of  individual. 
First  he  grew  impatient  about  the  ugly  green  patches; 
then  he  grew  callous  whether  people  thought  them 
ornamental  or  not ;  finally  he  arrived  at  the  conclu- 
sion that  it  was  "  like  a  girl "  to  stay  in  for  the 
sake  of  his  appearance.  So  grasping  his  stick  in 
one  hand,  and  thrusting  the  other  in  his  trousers 
pocket,  he  set  off  at  a  brisk  pace  to  enjoy  the  west 
wind  and  the  sunshine,  still  looking  rather  unsightly, 
but  whistling  a  lively  tune. 

Passing  the  plantation,  Tom's  tune  changed,  and 
he  began  whistling  "Dick  and  Harry  and  Tom,"  just 
as  he  had  heard  Miriam  sing  it  as  she  sat  upon  the 
fallen  tree ;  for  Tom  was  quick  at  catching  up  a  tune. 

"  I  wonder  if  she's  there  this  morning,"  said 
Tom  to  himself,  clambering  up  to  the  palings  to 
peep  over. 

The  flowers,  all  withered  and  dead,  were  lying  at 
the  foot  of  the  tree ;  but  Miriam  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen. 

"  I  don't  believe  she's  been  here  since,"  said  Tom 
to  himself.  "  That's  just  like  Miriam."  But  Tom 
half  wished  in  the  bottom  of  his  heart  that  he 
hadn't  done  it.  The  flowers  looked  so  sad;  they 
seemed  to  reproach  him. 


MIRIAM'S  KNIGHT-ERRANT.  39 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  you,"  they  seemed  to  say, 
"  we  might  still  have  been  adorning  the  house  with 
our  beauty  and  fragrance." 

Ah,  what  lovely  flowers  of  peace  and  happiness 
we  may  destroy  by  unkind  words  or  acts !  and  how 
anxious  we  should  be  to  "  scatter  seeds  of  kindness 
for  our  reaping  by-and-by  !  " 

Tom  hung  there  on  the  palings  some  time,  half 
inclined  to  get  over  and  climb  the  lime  tree  to  see 
how  his  initials  looked ;  but  he  changed  his  mind. 
In  the  field  at  the  further  end  of  the  plantation  was 
a  pond  where  he  often  went  to  catch  tadpoles  and 
water-newts ;  and  thither  Tom  directed  his  steps. 
The  pond  lay  in  a  deep  hollow,  hidden  by  a  group 
of  firs  and  larches,  and  fringed  by  a  thick  tangle 
of  bramble  and  furze,  now  all  golden  with  bloom. 
Tom  pushed  the  gate  open,  went  straight  across  the 
grass  to  a  gap  where  the  bushes  had  been  cut  away 
for  the  cattle  to  go  down  and  drink,  and  began  to 
poke  about  in  the  water  with  his  stick.  But  there 
were  no  tadpoles  to  be  seen.  He  was  just  turning 
away,  when  he  heard  a  great  splash  at  the  other 
side,  and  glancing  across,  whom  should  he  see  but 
Miriam,  with  one  foot  in  the  water,  clinging  tightly 
with  both  hands  to  an  overhanging  bough,  her 
dress  held  fast  by  the  hooked  thorns  of  the  dog-rose 
brambles. 

"  Hold  on  till  I  come,"  cried  Tom,  elbowing  his 


40  MIRIAM'S  KNIGHT-ERRANT. 

way  in  among  the  furze  bushes.  "  Hold  tight !  If 
the  other  foot  slips  you'll  be  done  for." 

"  Don't  come  near  me !  "  screamed  Miriam,  turning 
scarlet,  and  struggling  to  get  her  dress  free.  "  I  can 
get  out  quite  well  by  myself.  It's  all  your  fault  I 
slipped.  You've  come  on  purpose  to  plague  me." 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  here  till  I  heard  your 
foot  go  splash,"  called  Tom.  "  Hold  on  !  I'm  coming 
to  help  you.  I'm  your  knight-errant." 

The  bank  was  so  slippery  that  Tom  was  afraid 
he  would  never  reach  Miriam  in  time.  He  crushed 
through  the  brambles,  regardless  of  consequences; 
but  the  tangle  was  so  thick  that  it  was  hard  work 
to  make  any  progress. 

"  How  did  you  get  there  ? "  exclaimed  he. 

But  Miriam  was  struggling  too  hard  to  answer, 
and  just  as  Tom  was  almost  within  arm's  length,  by 
a  desperate  effort  she  regained  her  footing  and  tore 
her  dress  free. 

"  How  you've  hurt  your  hands  !  "  cried  Tom. 

They  were  all  scratched  and  bleeding.  There 
were  some  dreadful  rents,  too,  in  her  frock,  which 
was  all  splashed  and  muddy.  But  Miriam  was  so 
vexed  that  she  hardly  felt  the  smart.  "I  don't 
care,"  cried  she ;  "  I  would  rather  scratch  them  a 
hundred  times  over  than  be  helped  by  you,  for 
you're  a  nasty,  disagreeable  boy,  and  my  papa  is 
going  to  give  you  a  good  talking  to." 


MIRIAMS  KNIGHT-ERRANT.  41 

"You  don't  suppose  /  care  for  that !"  retorted  Tom 
contemptuously,  turning  away  and  preparing  to 
push  his  way  back  through  the  furze.  "  And  I'll 
see  you  drown,  another  time,  before  I'll  offer  to  help 
you." 

"  What  a  horrid-tempered  thing  she  is  ! "  he  said 
to  himself,  as  he  crossed  the  grass ;  "  and  how  glad 
I  am  that  I  didn't  tell  her  I  was  sorry  ! "  And  off 
he  strode,  feeling  very  much  Miriam's  superior. 

"  I  say,  though,  you  began  it  all,"  said  Tom's  con- 
science. 

"  Well,  she  had  no  need  to  be  so  cross  because  I 
quizzed  her  a  little,"  urged  Tom  in  self-defence. 

"  But  when  you  saw  she  didn't  like  it,  the  kindest 
and  most  Christian  thing  would  have  been  to  drop 
it  at  once,"  expostulated  the  tiresome  little  monitor. 

"  She's  only  a  girl  after  all,"  said  Tom,  "  and  girls 
are  silly — all  except  Katie.  I  shouldn't  wonder  a 
bit  if  she  doesn't  even  know  what  a  knight-errant 
is ; "  for  Tom  was  a  little  sore  that  his  knight- 
errantry  had  been  rejected.  "  As  to  her  father,  I 
don't  care  that  for  him ! "  And  Tom  snapped  his 
fingers  and  broke  out  whistling.  Nevertheless,  he 
chose  a  way  home  that  didn't  lead  him  past  Mr. 
Grayson's,  thereby  proving  the  truth  of  the  good  old 
saying  that  "  conscience  makes  cowards  of  us  all." 


CHAPTER    VII. 
HA  YMAKING  BEGINS. 

THE  early  spring  flowers  died,  and  the  orchards 
showered  clown  their  pink  and  white  snow. 
Then  the  cuckoo  came ;  the  meadows  grew  golden 
with  buttercups,  and  farmers  watched  the  waving 
grass  until  the  gold,  too,  died  out  of  it,  and  left  it 
brown  and  purple  with  the  ripening  seed — ready 
for  the  scythe.  Then  dog-roses  began  to  peep  out 
in  the  hedges ;  the  cuckoo's  note  grew  uncertain ; 
and  bands  of  men,  hot  and  travel-stained,  trudged 
along  the  roads  and  lanes  with  scythes  over  their 
shoulders  and  whetstones  strapped  to  their  waist- 
belts. 

All  through  this  lovely  spring-time  Miriam  had 
scarcely  spoken  to  Katie. 

Katie  had  made  more  than  one  attempt  at  a 
reconciliation.  She  had  tried  to  wait  for  Miriam 
coming  out  of  school,  as  she  always  used  to.  She 
had  started  early  to  waylay  her  by  the  end  of  the 
plantation ;  she  had  offered  her  pencil  when  the 


HAYMAKING  BEGINS.  43 

point  of  Miriam's  broke ;  and,  in  short,  had  done 
a  hundred  and  one  things  to  show  her  that  she 
wanted  to  be  friends.  But  all  her  overtures  of 
peace  were  rejected.  Miriam  always  managed  to 
be  looking  the  other  way  when  Katie  tried  to  speak 
to  her  ;  and  immediately  school  was  over  she  always 
linked  arms  with  some  other  girl,  and  went  off 
whispering,  to  show  Katie  that  she  was  not  wanted. 

Meanwhile  haymaking  had  commenced. 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  Mr.  Gray  son's  hay- 
makers arrived.  Their  faces  were  scorched  and 
sunburnt,  and  they  dragged  their  feet  wearily  as 
they  came  up  the  yard.  They  had  been  on  the 
tramp  since  three  that  morning ;  for,  like  many 
haymakers,  they  came  from  a  distance. 

Mr.  Grayson  was  indoors  at  tea  when  they  ar- 
rived, but  he  went  out  at  once  to  speak  to  them, 
and  Miriam  soon  followed.  These  men  had  cut  her 
father's  grass  for  many  seasons,  and  had  watched 
her  grow  up  from  a  tiny  baby.  In  the  meantime 
Mrs.  Grayson  had  gone  to  the  kitchen  to  see  about 
ordering  some  refreshment  for  them,  and  when  they 
had  quenched  their  thirst  on  the  huge  cans  of  tea 
which  she  sent  out,  and  satisfied  their  hunger  on 
the  bread  and  cheese,  they  were  glad  to  have  a 
wash  at  the  pump,  and  stretch  themselves  upon  the 
hay  in  the  loft  where  they  were  to  pass  the  night. 
Long  before  the  shadows  fell  they  were  sleeping 


44  HAYMAKING  BEGINS. 

the  sleep  of  exhausted  nature,  so  as  to  be  up  and 
at  work  with  the  first  peep  of  day. 

The  sun  was  not  yet  down  when  another  man 
came  up  the  yard. 

Miriam  was  just  returning  from  the  garden, 
where  she  had  been  gathering  gooseberries  for 
preserving,  and  she  stopped  against  the  kitchen 
door  to  look  at  him.  He  was  very  lame  and 
footsore,  but  he  touched  his  hat  and  hobbled 
quickly  forward  on  seeing  Miriam.  "  Beg  pardon, 
missie,"  said  he ;  "  is  the  genelman  a-goin'  to  cut 
his  hay  ?  " 

"  They  are  going  to  begin  to-morrow,"  replied 
Miriam,  who  had  retreated  a  step  or  two  inside. 
"  But  papa  has  got  all  the  men  he  wants." 

The  man  slowly  took  the  scythe  down  off  his 
shoulder,  and  rested  the  handle  on  the  ground,  so 
that  he  could  support  his  weight  on  it ;  then  he 
lifted  one  foot  stiffly  on  to  the  doorstep,  and  pushed 
his  hat  back  on  his  forehead. 

"  Maybe  he  could  do  with  another  hand,  missie," 
pleaded  he,  "  to  get  his  grass  up  quick.  It's  a  long 
spell  of  fine  weather  we've  been  havin',  and  it's  been 
powerful  hot  to-day.  Might  come  a  storm  afore  he 
got  it  carried,  and  spoil  it  all.  Maybe  you'd  ask 
him,  missie." 

Miriam  didn't  altogether  like  the  look  of  the 
man.  She  misinterpreted  the  traces  of  fatigue  and 


HAYMAKING  BEGINS.  45 

poverty.  "  1  can  ask,"  said  she ;  "  but  I  know  it's 
of  no  use." 

"  You  see,  sir,"  the  man  said,  when  Mr.  Grayson 
came  out,  which  he  did  pretty  quickly  on  hearing 
that  Miriam  had  left  a  rough-looking  stranger 
waiting  at  the  unguarded  door — "  you  see,  sir,  I've 
tramped  from  Lunnon  every  single  step  to-day, 
and  I  ha'n't  got  a  penny  about  me ;  and  unless  so 
be  as  I  get  work  to-night  I  don't  know  what  I'm  to 
do ;  and  I'm  that  footsore  I  can  hardly  get  along." 

But  to  give  him  work  was  out  of  Mr.  Grayson's 
power,  for  he  had  already  fully  as  many  hands 
as  his  field  would  require,  and  he  told  the  poor 
fellow  so. 

"  However,"  he  added  kindly,  "  you  can  at  any 
rate  sit  down  on  the  bench  yonder  and  have  a  rest 
and  a  meal,  to  carry  you  on  your  way  a  bit."  And 
he  at  once  went  indoors  to  find  his  wife.  Mean- 
while the  poor  wayworn  man  had  reached  the 
bench,  and  leaned  his  back  against  the  wall. 

"Ah,  what  a  blessed  thing  rest  is  ! "  exclaimed  he, 
stretching  his  legs  out  before  him  as  Mr.  Grayson 
disappeared.  "  That  genelman's  a  Christian,  if  there 
is  one  to  be  found ;  and  there  ain't  many  like  him. 
The  most  on  'em  just  gives  you  your  answer,  and 
off  you  must  go — starve  or  die  !  " 

An  hour  later,  by  Mr.  Grayson's  advice,  he  stood 
outside  Mr.  Rivers's  back  door,  and  shortly  after- 


46  HAYMAKING  BEGINS. 

wards  he  was  tasting  the  delight  of  a  clean  straw 
bed  in  an  outhouse  in  the  s^flole-yard — rolling  him- 
self up  for  a  good  night's  sleep,  in  the  happy  pros- 
pect of  several  days'  work  and  corresponding  pay. 

Katie  was  surprised,  on  waking  next  morning,  to 
hear  the  "  slish,  slish  "  of  the  scythes  in  the  grass, 
and  the  ring  of  the  whetstone  on  the  blade. 

"  I  do  believe  it's  our  field,  too,"  said  she,  putting 
her  tangled  mane  round  Tom's  door,  after  trying 
repeatedly  to  rouse  him  from  the  outside.  "  You 
just  hark ! " 

Tom  sprang  up,  sitting  in  his  bed.  "  You're  not 
up,  Kit,  are  you?"  exclaimed  he,  digging  his  knuckles 
into  his  eyes  to  get  them  open. 

Katie  shook  her  head,  which  was  certainly  a 
degree  rougher  than  it  would  be  after  the  applica- 
tion of  a  brush  and  comb.  "I  shan't  be  long, 
though."  said  she.  "  Make  haste,  Tom ;  I'm  cer- 
tain it's  our  field."  And  gently  pulling  Tom's 
door  to,  away  she  pattered  with  her  bare  pink  feet. 

A  short  time  after,  the  two  crept  downstairs, 
undid  the  bolts,  and  slipping  out  into  the  fresh 
morning  air,  sped  down  the  field  way,  and  away  to 
the  meadow. 

Yes,  Katie  was  quite  right.  The  man  had  been  at 
work  an  hour  already.  There  was  a  good  broad  strip 
mown.  "  And  papa  never  told  us  !"  exclaimed  Katie. 

The  man  was  just  straightening  himself  up  to 


HAYMAKING  BEGINS.  47 

whet  his  scythe.  Seeing  Tom  and  Katie,  he  put  a 
forefinger  up  to  the  brim  of  his  hat,  and  wished 
them  a  civil  good-morning. 

"  We  didn't  know  you  were  coming,"  said  Tom, 
stepping  across  the  new-cut  grass  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets. 

"  Nor  I  nuther,  sir,  till  after  you  was  in  bed,  I 
reckon,"  returned  the  man ;  and  he  related  how  he 
had  been  sent  on  by  Mr.  Grayson  to  try  his  luck  at 
getting  work  there. 

Tom  asked  where  he  came  from,  and  was  told 
"  Lunnon." 

"  Have  you  been  in  Lunnon,  sir?"  asked  the  man. 

Tom  replied  that  he  had  once  or  twice. 

"  It's  a  big  place,  if  you  was  to  set  out  to  walk 
from  one  end  of  it  to  t'other,"  continued  the  man ; 
"  but  when  you  come  to  tramp  right  out  here — my 
word,  it's  a  stiffish  job." 

"What  part  do  you  live  in?"  asked  Tom. 

"  In  what  they  call  Bermondsey,  sir,"  replied  the 
man.  "  It  ain't  a  nice  part,  specially  the  court 
what  we  live  in — close  and  dirty,  like.  Now 
this — "  and  as  he  looked  round  about  him  his  soul 
seemed  to  drink  its  fill  of  the  loveliness — the  ver- 
dure and  the  sunshine,  and  the  sweetness  of  the 
summer  morning.  "  This  is  beautiful,"  he  went  on. 
"  I  tell  you  what.  I  said  my  prayers  this  morning, 
when  I  come  out  o'  that  'ere  shed,  for  the  first  time 


48  HAYMAKING  BEGINS. 

this  many  a  day — not  on  my  knees,  like  ;  I  couldn't 
wait  for  that.  I  ses,  ses  I,  '  O  God,  this  'ere's  a 
beautiful  world  to  'a'  made ! — and  Lord  send  my 
little  Tab  may  come  to  see  it  one  o'  these  days;' 
and  I  belie\7e  he  will." 

The  man  was  going  on  whetting  his  scythe ;  but 
Katie,  who  until  then  had  been  standing  on  the 
pathway  near  the  hedge,  now  picked  her  way  across 
the  grass,  regardless  of  the  dew.  "  Who  is  Tab  ?  " 
asked  she,  looking  up  in  his  face. 

"  Tab's  the  eldest  o'  my  two  children,  little  miss," 
replied  the  man,  with  his  eyes  still  on  his  blade 
though ;  and  Katie  thought  she  saw  the  glisten  of 
something  like  tears  in  them. 

"  Poor  little  Tab !  turned  twelve  she  is,  this 
month,  miss,  and  you  wouldn't  think  she  was  more 
than  eight." 

"  Is  she  ill  ? "  asked  Katie  next. 

'•'  Deformed,"  the  man  replied.  "  A  drunken 
woman  dropped  her  when  she  were  a  little  mite 
not  rnore'n  two  days  old ;  and  that's  what  come  of 
it.  It  hurt  the  spine,  you  see,  and  she  grew  hump- 
backed. But  with  as  sweet  a  face  as  any  angel  in 
a  pictur',  miss,"  he  went  on,  as  Katie,  hardly  know- 
ing what  to  say  to  such  a  grievous  tale,  stood  silent, 
looking  on  the  grass. 

"  And  she's  never  seen  the  country,  I  suppose  ? " 
said  Katie,  looking  up  again. 


HAYMAKING  BEGINS.  49 

Tab's  father  shook  his  head.  "  Never  been  out- 
side the  court  where  she  first  saw  daylight,  miss," 
answered  he — "  such  daylight  as  it  is.  And  there 
she  sets  and  works  all  day  up  in  our  little  garret 
along  o'  Zillah — that's  the  other  one,  miss ;  and 
which  o'  those  two  works  the  hardest  'd  puzzle  any 
one  to  say." 

Katie  inquired  what  they  worked  at. 

The  man  replied,  "  At  mending  dolls.  Zill  buys 
'em  cheap  from  ragmen  and  the  like,  and  then  they 
mend  their  clothes  and  titiwate  'em  up  for  me  to 
wheel  out  on  my  barrow  for  to  sell." 

Katie's  interest  was  thoroughly  awakened.  She 
asked  a  lot  of  questions  about  this  dollies'  hospital. 
The  occupation  by  which  Tab  and  Zillah  earned 
their  bread  was  a  branch  of  industry  that  she  had 
never  heard  of. 

"  But  I  must  get  on  with  my  work  afore  the  sun 
gets  high,"  Tab's  father  said,  with  a  look  round  at 
the  eastern  sky  ;  "  the  dew's  a-dryin'  up  a'ready ; " 
and  he  fell  to  work  again. 

Tom  and  Katie  watched  awhile,  then  they  walked 
away.  Tom  cleaned  and  fed  his  rabbits,  while 
Katie  raked  and  watered  her  garden  bed.  But 
everywhere  the  distant  "  slish,  slish "  of  the 
mower's  scythe  followed  them  with  its  strange 
fascination,  and  they  could  not  keep  away  from 
the  field. 

(254)  4 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

KATIE'S  SCHEME. 

"  r  I  "OM ! "  said  Katie,  as  the  two  children  went 
upstairs  that  evening  after  having  their 
supper  of  plain  seed-cake  and  new  milk — "Tom,  do 
look  at  Tab's  father." 

Katie's  head  was  out  of  the  casement,  and  Tab's 
father,  hearing  her  voice,  looked  up. 

He  was  seated  on  the  chopping-stool,  where  he 
had  eaten  his  supper  after  coming  up  from  the  field. 
Katie  nodded,  and  called  "  Good-night ; "  and  the 
man,  touching  his  hat  respectfully,  got  up  and 
moved  off  towards  the  shed  for  his  night's  rest. 
"  He  was  looking  so  happy ! "  exclaimed  Katie,  as 
Tom  came  and  leaned  on  the  sill  beside  her. 

"  I  expect  he  was  jolly  hungry  for  his  supper," 
remarked  he. 

"  I  wonder  if  he  was  saying  his  prayers  again  ? " 
said  Katie  thoughtfully,  remembering  what  Tab's 
father  had  said  that  morning. 

"  It's  a  rum  fashion  of  doing  it,  if  he  was,"  ob- 


KATIE'S  SCHEME.  51 

served  Tom,  "  staring  at  the  sky,  with  his  big  knife 
in  his  hand  and  his  mouth  full." 

To  Tom's  mind  kneeling  made  up  a  good  deal 
of  the  Tightness  of  prayers ;  yet  probably  the  un- 
spoken thankfulness  of  this  poor  man,  who  believed 
that  it  was  God  who  had  directed  him  to  this  job 
of  work  and  sent  him  his  good  meal — as  he  cares 
for  the  sparrows — was  far  more  well-pleasing  in  the 
heavenly  Father's  sight  than  many  a  form  of  words 
which  educated  Christians  gabble  over,  night  and 
morning,  on  their  knees. 

Katie  had  an  inkling  of  this  truth.  "  He  was 
looking  right  out  there,"  said  she,  pointing  where 
the  setting  sun  had  left  a  bright  gold  band  along  the 
horizon.  "  It  made  him  think  of  heaven,  I  believe ; 
and  very  likely  he  was  wishing  Tab  could  see  it  too." 

Tom  said,  "Perhaps,"  and  a  few  minutes  later 
they  went  to  their  rooms ;  but  long  after  Tom  was 
sound  asleep,  Katie  lay  awake  maturing  a  plan  that 
had  come  into  her  head  whilst  she  knelt  beside  her 
bed.  Katie  heard  ten  o'clock  strike  that  night — 
a  very  unusual  thing  for  her  to  do. 

The  consequence  was  that  Tom  roused  first  next 
morning,  and  Katie  had  a  scramble  to  get  dressed 
before  he  went  downstairs. 

"  Tom  ! "  cried  she,  hurrying  after  him  as  he  set 
off  running  towards  the  field,  "  do  stop  a  bit ;  I've 
got  a  plan." 


52  KATIE'S  SCHEME. 

The  plan  was  this :  it  had  struck  Katie  that  she 
and  Toni  might  do  what  boys  and  girls  in  other 
towns  and  villages  were  doing — start  a  fresh-air 
mission  at  their  own  expense,  and  give  poor  Tab  and 
Zillah  two  or  three  weeks'  outing  in  the  country. 
"  They  would  enjoy  it  so,"  said  she. 

Tom  stopped  short  and  thrust  his  stick  into  the 
hedge — a  way  he  had  when  he  couldn't  quite  see 
to  the  bottom  of  anything.  "That's  just  like  a 
girl's  idea,"  objected  he ;  "  you  don't  consider  what 
it  would  cost !  " 

Katie  inquired  how  much  he  thought,  and  Tom 
replied  with  the  important  monosyllable,  "  Gold." 
But  Katie  was  not  dismayed. 

"  I  thought  of  asking  all  the  girls  at  school  to 
help — all  except  Miriam,  of  course ;  it's  of  no  use 
asking  her.  She  spent  her  half-sovereign  on  that 
gold  locket  she's  so  proud  of,  and  she  never  gives 
away  a  penny.  But  if  all  the  rest  gave  ever  so 
little,  we  could  manage  it." 

The  scheme  took  with  the  girls  beyond  Katie's 
fondest  expectations ;  and  although,  on  admitting 
Mrs.  Rivers  to  their  confidence,  it  was  found  that 
more  money  would  be  required  than  even  Tom  had 
supposed,  contributions  poured  in  so  readily  that 
before  the  hay  was  carried  a  sufficient  sum  was 
already  in  hand. 

"  Miriam   will    be    wild   when   she    hears    what 


KATIE'S  SCHEME.  53 

we've  done,"  observed  Tom,  who  of  course  was 
present  at  the  committee  meeting.  The  girls  had 
all  come  up  to  the  hay-making,  and  had  tea  out  in 
the  orchard.  "  But  she  doesn't  deserve  to  know — 
nasty,  proud  young  minx  ! " 

"And  what's  more,"  added  another,  "we  don't 
mean  her  to." 

"  You  see,"  said  Katie,  who  didn't  feel  quite 
comfortable  about  Miriam's  being  out  of  it,  "we  can't 
ask  her,  for  she  won't  give  us  a  chance."  For 
Miriam  never  spoke  to  Katie  now. 

"  Oh  !  let  her  go  on  putting  all  her  money  in  the 
savings-bank  to  buy  jewellery  with,"  sneered  Tom. 
"  We've  got  enough  without  her." 

It  was  a  good  deal  later  than  usual  that  night 
when  Tom  and  Katie  went  upstairs  to  bed.  They 
had  ridden  up  from  the  field  on  the  last  load  of  hay, 
and  accompanied  their  little  friends  down  the  lane 
as  far  as  the  plantation ;  and  now  the  great,  broad 
moon  was  shining  full  in  at  the  casement  on  the 
staircase. 

Katie  stopped  a  moment  to  look  out.  "  There 
goes  Tab's  father,"  said  she.  He  was  just  going  oft' 
to  his  bed  in  the  out-house.  "  He's  tired,  /  know," 
added  Katie.  "  But  didn't  he  just  look  glad  when 
we  told  him  about  our  scheme;  and  how  pleased  the 
girls  all  were  with  him  ! " 

Tom  nodded.      "  Say,  Kit,"  said  he,  "  it  was  just 


54  KATIE'S  SCHEME. 

like  a  girl  to  hit  on  such  a  scheme.  Boys  never 
seem  to  think  of  doing  other  people  good." 

"  Girls  can't  be  ' knight-er rants'  anyhow,"  said 
Katie,  who  always  wanted  to  find  something  to  say 
for  everybody.  "  I  don't  see,  though,  why  boys 
shouldn't -think  of  making  other  people  happy." 

"  Tell  you  what,  Kit,"  said  Tom  suddenly,  taking 
his  elbows  off  the  sill — "  I  mean  to  ask  the  boys  at 
our  school  to  contribute." 


CHAPTER    IX. 

TOM  IS  IN  TOO  MUCH  OF  A   HURRY. 

THE  summer  holidays  began  on  the  twenty- 
eighth  of  July.  That  day  being  also  Miriam's 
birthday,  she  invited  her  two  special  friends  round 
to  a  little  picnic  tea  in  the  plantation.  Great  fun 
they  had,  too,  for  they  packed  their  own  basket, 
and  wheeled  it  there  on  Miriam's  garden  barrow ; 
they  boiled  their  own  kettle  on  a  tripod  over  a  fire 
of  sticks  which  they  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in 
lighting ;  and  finally,  they  made  their  own  tea  and 
spread  their  own  feast,  and  sat  down  on  the  grass 
to  enjoy  it. 

Of  course  Katie  was  not  invited.  That  was  not 
to  be  expected,  although  in  times  past  she  had 
always  been  asked  to  Miriam's  birthday  picnics. 
But  Katie's  thoughts  were  otherwise  occupied  that 
glorious  summer  afternoon.  The  picnic  party  had 
just  settled  themselves  to  their  fancy,  when  a  sound 
of  wheels  and  voices  was  heard  along  the  road. 

"  Do  let's  run  and  look,"  cried  restless  little  Terry 


56       TOM  IS  IN  TOO  MUCH  OF  A   HURRY. 

Grainger,  the  younger  of  the  two  friends,  jumping 
up  all  in  a  hurry,  and  then  glancing  back  at  the 
feast,  half  doubtful  about  leaving  it  unless  the 
others  came  too. 

"  No,  don't  let's,"  contradicted  Madge  Tewson, 
who  was  noted  for  wanting  to  fall  to  work  when- 
ever there  was  anything  nice  to  be  eaten.  "  We 
shall  find  our  tea  full  of  flies  and  spiders  when  we 
come  back." 

"  Nonsense  !  "  cried  Miriam,  who  being  hostess 
had  the  casting  vote ;  and  off  she  ran  with  Terry, 
leaving  Madge  to  please  herself  about  following. 

"  Well,  I  do  declare  ! "  exclaimed  Miriam,  tiptoe- 
ing to  get  her  head  above  the  palings. 

Terry  was  at  a  disadvantage,  not  being  so  tall. 
"  What  is  it,  Mirry  ? "  asked  she  eagerly,  as  she 
searched  about  for  something  to  clamber  on;  "do  tell!" 

"  The  queerest  caravan  you  ever  saw ! "  replied 
Miriam.  "  The  oddest  little  object  in  the  shabbiest 
old  bath-chair,  with  Tom  and  Katie  pushing  behind, 
and  a  common  girl  in  her  great-grandmother's  clothes 
walking  like  a  lady  at  the  side." 

Terry  had  surmounted  her  difficulties  by  this 
time,  and  even  Madge  Tewson,  catching  Miriam's 
words,  had  left  the  spread  and  joined  them. 

"Well,  I  do  declare!"  echoed  Madge.  "What 
next,  I  wonder  ?  What  on  earth  are  Tom  and  Katie 
Rivers  about  ? " 


TOM  IS  IN  TOO  MUCH  OF  A   HURRY.       57 

The  plain  fact  of  the  matter  was  this :  Katie's 
scheme  had  actually  come  to  pass,  and  she  and  Tom 
had  been  to  the  station  to  meet  their  visitors  and 
fetch  them  home. 

Miriam  was  quite  right.  It  was  an  odd-looking 
cavalcade.  The  bath-chair  was  an  old  one  in  which 
Mrs.  Rivers's  mother  had  ridden  in  and  out  to  take 
the  air,  and  since  the  day  when  her  need  of  it  had 
ceased,  it  had  been  Tom  and  Katie's  chariot  in  the 
garden.  Small  wonder  if  it  looked  shabby. 

In  this  chariot,  however,  sat  Tab,  supremely 
happy,  and  altogether  unmindful  that  the  leather 
was  worn  or  the  varnish  scraped.  To  her  the 
stuffed  cushions,  hard  as  they  had  grown  with  use, 
were  luxury  itself,  and  to  ride  was  a  queenly 
thing.  All  Tab  knew  was  that  she  was  actually  in 
that  unhoped-for  paradise  of  loveliness  and  peace, 
the  country;  and  that  it  far  surpassed  her  brightest 
coloured  dreams — for  Tab  had  dreamt  night  and 
day  of  it  ever  since  she  first  heard  she  was  to  go. 
There  she  sat,  speechless  with  timidity  and  happi- 
ness, her  little  bundle  resting  on  her  thin,  scantily- 
covered  knees,  and  her  hands  tightly  clasped  upon 
it,  in  wonder  and  admiration.  As  for  the  rest,  she 
was,  to  use  Miriam's  expression,  "  the  oddest  little 
creature  "  with  her  deformed,  stunted  body,  and  her 
big  head,  surmounted  by  its  fantastic  hat — the  first 
she  had  ever  worn — a  sample  of  her  own  millinery, 


58       TOM  IS  IN  TOO  MUCH   OF  A   HURRY. 

rigged  up  out  of  odd  scraps  from  her  second-hand 
dollies'  finery. 

Meanwhile  by  the  side  walked  Zillah,  "  like  a 
lady,"  not  even  carrying  her  own  bundle,  which  had 
considerately  been  tucked  away  on  the  foot  of  the 
chair,  so  that  her  hands  might  be  free  to  hold  the 
wild  flowers  which  London  children  often  find  it  so 
difficult  to  realize  are  theirs  to  gather.  But  Zillah 
was  not  like  poor  little  shy,  misshapen  Tab,  who 
never  saw  a  face,  year  in,  year  out,  except  Zillah's 
and  her  father's.  She  was  sharp  and  quick,  used 
to  pushing  her  way  about  and  bargaining  with  the 
second-hand  venders,  of  whom  she  bought  her  stock- 
in-trade  ;  and  her  delight,  unlike  Tab's,  showed 
itself  in  excited  chatter. 

"  Why,  I  know  !  "  cried  Terry  Grainger  :  "  that's 
what  we  overheard  the  girls  talking  about  the  day 
after  Katie's  hay-making  party,  you  remember — 
about  the  city  slum  children." 

"And  they've  actually  fetched  them  here  to  make 
the  country  nasty  too!"  exclaimed  Madge.  "We 
shall  have  a  fever  breaking  out  in  the  place." 

"  I  never  thought  they  would  actually  do  it,"  said 
Miriam,  in  a  tone  of  contempt  that  seemed  to  betray 
a  little  annoyance  at  being  out  of  it.  "  Fancy  push- 
ing them  through  the  open  streets  too !  I  wonder, 
will  Katie  have  them  to  sleep  in  her  room  ? "  she 
added  ironically. 


TOM  IS  IN  TOO  MUCH  OF  A   HURRY.       59 

"  Oh  no,"  replied  Terry,  who  was  rather  apt  to 
take  Miriam's  sarcasms  seriously ;  "  they're  to  lodge 
at  Mrs.  Bull's.  I  heard  Tiny  Radford  say  so." 

"  Oh  my  !  "  cried  Miriam  ;  "  what  fun  Dick  Bull 
will  make  of  that  odd  little  creature's  hump ! " 

The  bath-chair  was  almost  close  under  the  fence 
just  as  Miriam  said  this,  and  Katie  heard,  if  Tab 
did  not — she  hoped  Tab  did  not  hear.  But  Zillah's 
sharp  ears  had  caught  the  words,  and  she  had  seen 
the  jeering  face  that  was  peeping  over  the  fence. 
She  looked  round  at  Katie  with  flushed  cheeks.  It 
had  never  struck  her  how  much  her  poor  afflicted 
sister  might  have  to  endure  in  exchange  for  her 
release  from  the  imprisonment  of  that  out-of-the- 
way  garret  where  her  deformity  was  hidden  away. 

Meanwhile  Miriam  had  given  the  signal  to  return 
to  the  feast.  "  We  shall  have  the  rattlesnakes  steal- 
ing our  cakes,  girls,"  said  she,  in  a  tone  meant  for 
the  bath-chair  party  to  hear ;  but  the  words  had  no 
sooner  left  her  lips  than  she  uttered  a  piercing 
scream  of  terror.  In  stepping  back  from  the  fence 
she  had  all  but  placed  her  foot  upon  an  adder,  and 
the  creature  was  rearing  up  its  head  and  hissing 
spitefully,  just  about  to  strike. 

"  Help,  help  !  "  screamed  she.  "  It's  going  to  kill 
me  !  "  And  Madge  and  Terry,  joining  in  the  scream, 
cried  "  Help,  help  !  "  too. 

Tom  heard  their   screams,  and  thought  at  first 


60       TOM  IS  IN  TOO  MUCH  OF  A   HURRY. 

they  were  pretending ;  but  it  soon  became  apparent 
that  there  was  no  make-belief  about  the  matter, 
and  letting  go  the  handle  of  the  bath-chair,  Tom 
dashed  across  the  road. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  shouted  he,  as  he  sprang 
up  the  bank.  Then  seeing  the  enraged  viper,  he 
cleared  the  fence,  and  seizing  a  stout  piece  of  wood 
which  fortunately  lay  to  hand,  he  aimed  a  desperate 
blow  at  the  creature's  backbone. 

"  Well  done  !  "  cried  Tom  triumphantly,  repeating 
the  blows  with  vigour  to  make  sure  of  his  work. 

Miriam  began  to  stammer  out  some  thanks ;  but 
somehow  Tom  felt  in  no  mood  to  listen  to  them 
after  the  rude  manner  in  which  she  had  spoken  of 
poor  Tab. 

"  I  should  advise  you  to  clear  out  of  here,"  said  he, 
cutting  her  short  and  hurrying  back  to  the  fence. 

But  Tom,  like  the  rest  of  us,  was  apt  to  make 
mistakes.  He  was  in  too  much  of  a  hurry,  for  he 
was  not  giving  Miriam  a  fair  chance ;  and  he  pun- 
ished himself.  In  dashing  over  the  fence  he  lost 
his  balance  and  n"alf  fell ;  and  his  foot,  finding  no 
hold  on  the  slippery  grass  bank,  slipped  down, 
throwing  him  forward  on  his  face,  and  twisting  his 
ankle  terribly. 

Tom  had  hard  work  not  to  cry  out.  He  was 
obliged  to  sit  down  by  the  roadside  to  bear  the  pain. 
"  The  thing  is,"  he  said,  "  how  I'm  to  get  home." 


TOM  IS  IN  TOO  MUCH  OF  A   HURRY.      61 

Katie  looked  very  serious.  " It  isn't  far"  sug- 
gested she  hopefully. 

"  Too  far  to  walk,"  said  Tom  pretty  positively, 
screwing  up  his  face  with  the  pain,  •  which  was 
rapidly  getting  worse.  "  It's  all  that  horrid  Miriam's 
fault.  I  said  I'd  never  help  her  again ;  but  I  for- 
got when  I  heard  her  scream.  I  wish  I  hadn't." 

Ah,  Tom !  better  far  be  governed  by  your  gener- 
ous impulses.  Second  thoughts  are  not  quite  always 
best,  for  they  are  often  far  more  selfish.  So  Katie 
thought. 

"  O  Tom  ! "  she  cried  :  "  it  wasn't  Miriam's  fault ; 
and  she'd  be  ever  so  sorry  if  she  knew  how  you're 
hurt." 

But  Miriam  was  in  entire  ignorance  of  what  had 
happened.  Too  much  frightened  to  enjoy  them- 
selves any  longer  in  the  plantation,  she  and  her 
friends  had  hurried  off  to  remove  their  feast  to  the 
safer  though  more  commonplace  garden  grass-plot. 

Meanwhile  it  was  hardly  a  suitable  time  to  choose 
for  discussing  Miriam's  disagreeable  temper  while 
Tom  was  in  such  pain.  The  most  important  con- 
sideration was  how  to  get  him  home.  After  due 
conference  the  following  plan  was  hit  upon.  Tab 
was  to  get  out  of  the  chair  and  sit  by  the  roadside 
with  Zillah,  whilst  Katie  helped  Tom  in  and  wheeled 
him  home;  after  which  she  would  return  at  once  and 
take  Tab  on  to  her  destination. 


CHAPTER    X. 
STRANDED  HIGH  AND  DRY. 

TAB  and  Zillah  felt  rather  like  fishes  out  of 
water,  stranded  high  and  dry  upon  their 
wayside  bank,  as  Katie  and  the  bath-chair  disap- 
peared round  the  turn  of  the  road.  Katie  had 
started  off  at  a  brisk  pace,  promising  not  to  be 
longer  gone  than  she  could  possibly  help ;  but  the 
minutes  seemed  like  hours. 

Both  children  were  very  quiet  at  first.  Tab 
looked  about  in  a  timid,  constrained  sort  of  way, 
wondering  at  the  surpassing  loveliness  of  the  cool 
green  canopy  overhead,  and  the  shadows  of  the  trees 
upon  the  sunlit  stretch  of  meadow-land  beyond,  and 
the  blueness  of  the  sky ;  listening  to  the  twittering 
of  the  birds,  and  the  distant  sheep-bells,  and  the 
lowing  of  some  patient  cows  in  Mr.  Grayson's  yard, 
where  they  were  waiting  to  be  milked — sounds  so 
different  to  those  that  reached  her  in  the  garret  she 
called  home.  There  she  only  heard  the  far-off, 
restless  roar  of  traffic  in  the  streets,  and  when  that 


STRANDED  HIGH  AND  DRY.  63 

hushed  to  rest,  the  striking  of  the  clocks  that  told ' 
her  how  the  sleepless  hours  went.  But  here  the 
very  leaves  seemed  singing  out  for  joy,  and  every 
happy  insect  in  the  air  had  music  in  its  wings. 
This  was  the  country,  the  beautiful  country  from 
which  her  father  had  returned  each  hay-making 
season  she  could  remember,  with  money  to  pay  for 
the  things  they  owed,  and  perhaps  to  lay  by  for  the 
rainy  days — twice  or  thrice  as  much  as  the  three  of 
them  could  have  earned  in  the  time  at  home,  where 
all  the  people  round  were  starved  for  want  of  work. 
She  had  often  tried  to  picture  it,  holding  the  money 
in  her  wasted  hand,  and  listening  to  his  talk  about 
the  fields  and  lanes  where  he  had  earned  it ;  and 
one  time  he  had  even  brought  a  coloured  print  to 
give  her  some  idea  of  what  "  the  country "  was. 
But  what  was  money  and  what  was  coloured  print 
to  all  that  her  eyes  saw  now  ?  It  seemed  like 
heaven  itself.  It  took  away  her  powers  of  speech. 
Zillah,  on  the  contrary,  was  silent  because  she 
dared  not  speak.  She  was  used  to  jostling  through 
the  busy  streets,  and  in  this  country  lane  there  was 
not  a  single  soul  in  sight.  Something  in  the  still- 
ness almost  frightened  her.  She  looked  nervously 
from  side  to  side;  saw  flowers  that, she  longed  to 
pick,  but  dared  not  stir  to  reach  them ;  noticed 
sparrows  flitting  in  and  out  the  boughs,  just  like 
the  same  brown  birds  that  perched  about  the  sooty 


64  STRANDED  HIGH  AND  DRY. 

London  chimney-pots  at  home ;  half  wondered  if 
they  really  were  the  very  same,  and  whether  they 
had  followed  Tab  and  her  upon  their  holiday,  but 
dared  not  tell  her  thoughts  to  Tab,  for  very  fear  of 
hearing  her  own  voice.  And  so  they  sat,  these  two 
poor  garret  children  on  the  grassy  bank,  waiting  for 
Katie's  return. 

About  ten  minutes  had  passed  in  this  manner, 
and  Zillah's  lively  tongue  was  just  on  the  point  of 
breaking  restraint,  when  who  should  come  in  sight 
but  Dick  Bull,  driving  his  step-brother  before  him 
with  a  pair  of  reins.  The  sight  of  a  live  being  un- 
loosed Zillah's  tongue  at  once. 

"  Look,  Tab  ! "  cried  she,  nudging  her  sister's 
elbow ;  but  poor  little  Tab  only  shrank  back  behind 
her  with  a  frightened  look.  She  was  unused  to 
seeing  and  being  seen. 

Dick,  intent  upon  his  step-brother,  did  not  per- 
ceive the  two  strange  figures  on  the  bank  until  he 
got  right  opposite.  Then  he  pulled  up  short  with 
the  abrupt  exclamation,  "  Hullo  !  who  are  you  ?  " 

Dick  wouldn't  have  looked  very  terrible  as  one 
in  a  throng  of  people  such  as  Zillah  was  accustomed 
to ;  but  here,  in  this  lonely  lane,  and  face  to  face, 
he  put  the  poor  child's  courage  all  to  flight.  She 
turned  an  appealing  glance  on  her  poor  little  elder 
sister. 

Tab's  white  face  had  flushed  crimson,  not  so  much 


STRANDED  HIGH  AND  DRY.  65 

with  fear  as  because  she  was  so  entirely  unused  to 
seeing  strangers.  Before  she  could  find  an  answer, 
Dick  had  snacked  his  reins  and  driven  his  horse  up 
closer. 

"  Where  in  the  world  did  you  drop  down  from  ? " 
asked  he. 

"  London,"  answered  Tab,  growing  pale  again. 

"  Might  as  well  'a'  stopped  there,  for  all  I  can 
see,"  said  Dick  rudely.  "  I  should  like  to  know 
what  you  came  for." 

"  Because  a  lady  wrote  and  asked  us,"  said  Tab. 
"  We're  to  stay  at  a  cottage  somewhere  here.  Ah, 
it's  so  beautiful ! "  added  Tab,  half  to  herself. 

"  Beautiful,  is  it  ? "  ejaculated  Dick.  "  I  tell  you 
what,  though — I  believe  you're  the  very  gals  what 
my  mother's  going  to  take  in.  Blest  if  I  think 
she'd  'a'  had  you  if  she'd  'a'  knowed  what  you  was 
like.  You're  a  rum-looking  gal,  you  are  ! " 

Tab  coloured  painfully.  "  I  can't  help  it,"  said 
she  simply. 

"  Didn't  say  you  could,"  said  Dick.  "  I  say, 
though,  that  other  one  looks  as  if  she'd  make  a 
smarter  horse  than  this  'ere  ; "  and  Dick  gave  his 
reins  a  twitch  that  made  his  step-brother  cry  out, 
and  rub  his  arm  where  the  cord  was  tied. 

"  Who  is  he  ? "  asked  Tab,  interested  in  the  poor 
little  fellow,  on  account  of  his  miserable  appearance. 

"  He's   my   horse,"  replied   Dick,   twitching    the 

(254)  5 


66  STRANDED  HIGH  AND  DRY. 

reins  again.  "  He  wants  the  whip  pretty  often,  too. 
His  name's  silly  Tim ;  and  he  ain't  quite  right." 

"  That's  a  pity,"  said  Tab  sorrowfully.  She  had 
thought  that  in  the  country  everybody  must  be 
happy. 

Dick  didn't  vouchsafe  an  answer  to  this  remark, 
for  he  was  busy  trying  to  unfasten  the  reins  off 
Tim's  arms. 

"  We'll  see  what  sort  of  a  horse  that  one  makes," 
said  he,  nodding  towards  Zillah.  "  I'm  going  to 
drive  her  home.  I'll  bet  sJie  can  run." 

The  cord  had  slipped  into  a  knot,  however ;  so 
after  some  few  ineffectual  attempts  at  undoing  it, 
Dick  got  out  his  knife.  But,  fortunately  for  Zillah, 
at  this  very  moment  Katie  reappeared  with  the 
bath-chair  ;  and  Zillah,  springing  to  her  feet,  ran 
down  the  lane  to  meet  her. 


CHAPTER   XL 
IN  THE   COUNTRY. 

WHEN  Zillah  made  her  sudden  escape  Dick 
had  shut  his  knife  and  gathered  up  Tim's 
reins,  with  a  loud  "  Get  up ! "  but  he  changed  his 
mind,  and  pulled  Tim  up  again,  and  stood  there  op- 
posite Tab,  staring  at  her. 

"  That's  your  sister,  ain't  it  ? "  said  he  presently, 
following  Zillah  with  his  eyes. 

Tab  answered,  "  Yes." 

"  She  ain't  much  like  you,"  said  Dick. 

"  She's  straight,  and  I'm  not,"  said  Tab. 

"  I  like  you  best,  though,"  observed  Dick, "  straight 
or  crooked.  She  runs  away,  and  you  don't." 

" I  can't"  returned  Tab  gravely.  Else  perhaps 
she  would  have. 

But  by  this  time  Katie  had  regained  them  with 
the  bath-chair.  Dick  noticed  that  Zillah  kept  on 
the  other  side  of  the  chair  whilst  Tab  was  being 
helped  in,  and  he  reflected,  with  satisfaction,  that 
when  she  was  at  his  mother's  it  would  not  always 


68  IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

be  possible  to  keep  out  of  his  hands  so  easily.  Dick 
had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  meant  to  have  his 
pennyworth  of  fun  out  of  Zillah.  As  soon  as  the 
others  moved  on  he  gave  Tim  the  reins  and  moved 
on  too,  following  slowly  at  a  distance  of  a  few 
paces. 

Katie  pointed  up  the  drive  as  they  passed  the 
gate.  "  That's  where  our  home  is,"  said  she,  "  but 
there's  a  good  half-mile  to  go  yet  to  where  you  are 
to  stay." 

Dick  sprang  forward.  "  I'll  wheel  'em  up  for 
you,  miss,"  said  he,  "and  bring  the  chair  back 
too." 

There  was  something  particularly  obliging  in  the 
tone  of  Dick's  voice  ;  but  Katie  had  no  intention  of 
yielding  up  her  protegees  to  his  tender  mercies.  She 
thanked  him,  and  declined. 

"  It'll  tire  yon  awfully,"  Dick  declared ;  "  you 
ain't  so  strong  as  me,  and  it's  all  uphill  after  we  get 
to  the  bottom  here."  But  Katie  still  declined. 

"  Let  me  push,  anyhow,"  begged  Dick,  anxious  to 
get  the  matter  into  his  own  hand  somehow  or  other. 
"  Here  !"  added  he,  thrusting  Tim's  reins  into  Zillah's 
hands ;  " you  drive  him"  Then  laying  hold  of  the 
chair,  he  commenced  pushing  so  vigorously  that  it 
seemed  to  go  like  a  feather. 

Katie  gave  in,  for,  truth  to  tell,  she  was  rather 
glad  of  the  relief.  She  had  hurried  up  the  hill,  and 


IN   THE  COUNTRY.  69 

was  a  wee  bit  tired.  But  Dick  pushed  so  fast  that 
it  didn't  make  things  much  better.  When  Katie 
remonstrated  he  only  grinned,  and  said  he  "guessed 
they  wanted  their  tea  by  now ;  and  she  wasn't 
bound  to  come  with  'em  except  to  please  herself. 
He'd  take  'em  home  all  right  enough."  Katie  viewed 
the  matter  differently,  however,  feeling  bound  to 
see  them  safely  into  Mrs.  Bull's  hands. 

Meanwhile  poor  Tim  was  enjoying  the  novelty  of 
a  new  hand  on  his  reins.  Zillah  drove  more  gently, 
and  was  beginning  to  enter  into  the  fun,  as  her 
strangeness  wore  off,  "  tchek-tch eking  "  to  make  him 
go.  So  Tim  trotted  briskly  along  by  Tab's  side, 
with  his  great  unmeaning  eyes  fixed  on  her  face,  and 
a  silly  smile  playing  about  his  mouth.  And  Tab — 
whose  kind  heart  had  warmed  to  the  poor  half- 
witted boy  because,  like  herself,  he  was  different  to 
other  people — nodded  pleasantly  from  time  to  time, 
and  gave  him  back  his  smiles.  In  this  way  they 
arrived  at  Mrs.  Bull's,  where  Katie,  after  intro- 
ducing them  to  their  temporary  guardian,  left  them, 
and  made  the  best  of  her  way  home  to  Tom. 

Dick  was  right  for  once.  Tab  and  Zillah  did 
"want  their  tea;"  and  encouraged  by  kind  Mrs. 
Bull's  motherly  care,  a  right  good  meal  they  made 
of  it.  Moreover,  Tom  and  Katie's  generosity  had 
provided  that  this  first  "  country  "  tea  should  be  an 
extra  tempting  and  substantial  one  ;  and  for  the 


70  IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

first  time  in  their  lives  they  tasted  new-laid  eggs 
and  green-gage  jam  and  sweet  dough  cake. 

Then  their  room,  too — such  a  pretty  little  room ! 
Its  lattice  window  neatly  curtained  with  white  and 
clustered  with  sweet  honeysuckle  and  the  "seven 
sisters "  rose.  Its  clean  blue-patterned  paper,  too, 
hung  with  picture  texts,  and  its  bright-coloured 
bedside  carpets  in  red  and  green  squares.  And  the 
bed  itself,  so  fresh  and  sweet  and  clean.  Tab  and 
Zillah  had  never  in  their  lives  seen  anything  like  it 
before.  How  they  slept  that  night,  and  how  rested 
and  refreshed  they  awoke,  with  the  morning  sun- 
light shining  on  their  blind !  It  all  seemed  like 
one  long,  delightful  dream,  too  lovely  to  be  true. 

Tom,  on  the  contrary,  hardly  got  a  wink  of  sleep, 
his  ankle  was  in  such  dreadful  pain;  and  worse 
than  that,  his  mind  was  very  ill  at  ease,  for  he  kept 
on  wilfully  blaming  Miriam  for  what  he  knew  to  be 
no  fault  of  hers — grudging  the  noble  service  that 
his  chivalry  had  prompted  him  to  do  her. 

Tom's  chivalry  was  very  far  from  perfect  at 
present.  He  had  yet  to  learn  to  serve  friend  and 
foe  alike  with  willing  love,  as  Christ  his  Master 
did  upon  the  cross.  But  Tom  didn't  look  at  his 
knight-errantry  in  that  light.  He  had  meant  never 
to  help  Miriam  again  since  that  day  down  by  the 
pond,  when  she  had  refused  his  help  so  disagreeably  ; 
and  then,  after  all,  when  his  better  self  had  for- 


IN   THE  COUNTRY.  71 

gotten  that  unchristian  resolution  in  the  impulse  of 
the  moment,  he  had  not  only  spoilt  his  heroic  action 
by  refusing  to  listen  to  her  thanks,  and  thus  robbed 
Miriam  of  -her  chance  of  regaining  her  place  in  his 
and  Katie's  friendship,  but  had  also,  hi  his  foolish 
hate,  brought  about  his  own  punishment  in  the 
shape  of  all  this  suffering.  But  Tom  only  thought 
of  Miriam's  hateful  temper,  and  wished  he  had  let 
the  adder  sting  her.  "  It  would  have  served  her 
right  to  lose  her  leg,"  said  he  to  himself,  "and  I'll 
never,  never  help  her  out  of  a  difficulty  again." 

Tom  didn't  say  his  prayers  that  night.  He 
didn't  want  to ;  and  it  didn't  seem  like  going  to 
bed  when  night  came,  because  he  had  been  there 
ever  since  half -past  five.  Besides,  he  fancied  that 
he  couldn't  say  them  with  that  constant  throb  in  his 
ankle ;  so  he  didn't  try.  But  Terry  Grainger  did, 
and  added,  "  Bless  Tom  Rivers  for  jumping  over 
the  fence  to  kill  the  adder  for  us ; "  and  God  heard 
that  little  prayer,  all  in  his  own  good  time,  and 
answered  it,  though  not  perhaps  exactly  in  the  way 
Torn  would  have  chosen. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

ALWAYS  AFTER  MISCHIEF. 

KATIE  walked  over  to  Mrs.  Bull's  cottage  next 
morning  to  see  how  Tab  and  Zillah  were 
getting  on,  and  also  to  take  a  little  basket  of  goose- 
berries which  she  and  Tom  had  been  saving  up  on 
their  own  bushes  for  Tab  and  Zillah's  special  treat. 
Mrs.  Bull  was  only  paid,  of  course,  to  provide  them 
with  a  bed  and  such  plain  fare  as  she  would  have 
given  to  her  own  two  boys ;  but  Tom  and  Katie 
wanted  their  guests  to  have  a  real  good  time,  so 
they  intended  carrying  them  some  little  dainty 
every  day.  All  this  made  it  very  vexing  for  Tom 
that  he  could  not  get  about.  But  that  was  not  to 
be  thought  of ;  so  Katie  set  out  alone,  promising  to 
be  sure  and  explain  that  the  yellow  ones  were  off 
Tom's  tree,  and  the  red  ones  off  her  own — which 
was  the  best  she  could  do  towards  mending  matters. 
Katie  found  Tab  sitting  on  an  old  three-legged 
stool  in  the  porch,  with  her  lap  full  of  flowers. 
Silly  Tirn  had  gathered  them  and  brought  them  to 


ALWAYS  AFTER  MISCHIEF.  73 

her  one  by  one.  Dick  had  gone  to  carry  home  some 
mangling  for  his  mother,  and  Tim  was  enjoying 
himself.  He  had  taken  quite  a  violent  fancy  to 
Tab.  Something  in  her  timid,  gentle  manner  at- 
tracted the  poor  boy,  who  was  so  used  to  being 
hustled  and  driven. 

Zillah,  with  the  tabby  kitten  on  her  shoulder, 
was  wandering  up  and  down  the  narrow  cinder-ash 
paths  between  the  garden  beds,  wondering  at  the 
butterflies  that  country  children  take  so  little  notice 
of.  This  tabby  kitten  was  almost  the  only  familiar 
object  Zillah  had  come  across;  and  it  seemed  to 
know  that  it  had  found  a  friend  in  her. 

After  talking  to  Tab  for  a  few  minutes,  Katie 
went  to  fetch  Zillah  to  the  porch,  and  brought  out 
her  gooseberries,  which  she  emptied  into  their  laps, 
so  that  she  might  take  her  basket  home.  She  had 
not  long  closed  the  garden  gate  when  Dick  returned 
with  the  empty  clothes-basket. 

"  Hullo  !  "  exclaimed  he.     "  Gooseberries  ! " 

"  The  young  lady  brought  them,"  explained  Zillah, 
who  had  quite  recovered  the  use  of  her  tongue  since 
her  night's  rest. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Dick. 

"  Won't  you  have  some  ? "  said  Tab,  timidly 
scooping  up  a  handful  out  of  her  lap  from  among 
the  flowers,  and  offering  them  to  him. 

Dick  took  them  without  scruple. 


74  ALWAYS  AFTER  MISCHIEF. 

Presently  Tim  appeared  round  the  corner  of  the 
house  with  a  head  of  crimson  sweet-william  in  his 
hand.  Seeing  Dick,  he  was  drawing  back  out  of 
sight;  but  Tab  beckoned  him.  "I've  got  some 
gooseberries,  Tim,"  cried  she  ;  "  come  and  have 
some." 

Tim  still  hesitated.  But  Tab  still  beckoned  him 
with  her  shy,  winning  smile,  holding  out  a  fine  red 
gooseberry — the  finest  she  could  see.  Such  an  in- 
vitation was  not  to  be  refused.  Tim  came  slowly 
forward,  laid  the  flower  on  her  lap  with  the  rest, 
and  took  the  gooseberry,  which  he  put  straight  to 
his  mouth.  But  that  unlucky  sweet-william  had 
opened  Dick's  eyes.  Seeing  flowers  in  Tab's  lap 
along  with  Katie's  gooseberries,  Dick  had  jumped 
to  the  conclusion  that  Katie  had  brought  them 
too. 

He  guessed  now  where  his  mistake  was. 

"  Who  picked  those  flowers  ?  "  asked  he  roughly. 

Tim  shrank  and  cowered.  He  had  only  thought 
about  giving  Tab  pleasure,  because  he  liked  her  ; 
but  the  tone  of  Dick's  voice  told  him  pretty  sharply 
that  he  had  done  wrong.  Poor  Tim  was  always 
doing  things  like  that — forgetting,  out  of  sheer 
silliness,  poor  idiot  that  he  was ! 

"  Always  after  mischief  !  "  cried  Dick,  cramming 
the  gooseberries  into  his  mouth  two  at  a  time,  and 
holding  out  his  hand  for  more. 


ALWAYS  AFTER  MISCHIEF.  75 

"  What  business  have  you  picking  the  flowers  ? 
I'll  teach  you — 

But  Dick  held  out  his  hand  in  vain,  for  Tab  had 
only  three  or  four  left,  and  Tim  was  to  have  those, 
she  said. 

"  What ! "  cried  Dick,  "  when  he's  been  and  got  in 
mischief  ?  Look  here  !  Runners,  and  peas,  and  all ! 
I'll  teach  him  ! "  And  Dick  made  such  a  terrible 
gesture  that  Tim  fled  for  his  life  round  the  corner. 

"  He  kept  on  bringing  them  to  me,"  said  Tab. 
"  I  didn't  know  he'd  no  business  to.  The  young 
lady  said  we  might  pick  any  flowers  we  liked." 

"  Out  of  doors,"  said  Dick — by  which  he  meant 
in  the  hedges  and  ditches  ;  "  not  in  people's  gardens, 
and  he  knows  that  well  enough.  Runners,  and 
peas,  and  all ! "  repeated  Dick  indignantly ;  "  the 
young  varmint ! " 

"  Runners  and  peas  ? "  asked  Zillah.  "  Which  are 
they  ? " 

Dick  selected  a  specimen  of  each. 

"  They're  good  to  eat,"  said  he,  "  and  he's  been 
and  picked  'em." 

"  Flowers  good  to  eat ! "     Tab  was  surprised. 

"  Not  the  flowers,  but  the  peas  and  beans,"  Zillah 
corrected  her.  Zillah  had  seen  them  on  the  coster- 
mongers'  barrows,  though  she  didn't  know  until 
then,  any  more  than  Tab  did,  that  they  grew  from 
pretty  flowers. 


76  ALWAYS  AFTER  MISCHIEF. 

"  You  ha'n't  picked  any,  I  s'pose  ? "  said  Dick  in 
a  threatening  tone,  turning  on  Zillah.  "  You  ha'n't 
given  me  any  o'  your  gooseberries." 

Zillah  shook  her  head  in  answer  to  Dick's  ques- 
tion, and  tendered  up  a  tribute  of  her  precious 
fruit.  She  was  naturally  of  a  more  greedy  dispo- 
sition than  her  sister,  so  it  cost  her  a  much  keener 
pang  to  part  with  her  gooseberries  than  it  had  Tab ; 
but  she  was  rather  afraid  of  Dick. 

"  I  ha'n't  picked  one,"  said  she. 

"  So  much  the  better  for  you,"  remarked  Dick, 
as  he  munched  the  gooseberries.  Then  seeing  that 
Zillah  had  prudently  placed  the  remaining  few  out 
of  reach  of  his  covetousness  by  eating  them  herself, 
he  added, — 

"  Now  I'll  go  and  teach  Tim  not  to  pick  peas 
and  beans  again."  And  off  he  strode. 

Tab  gathered  the  few  remaining  gooseberries  up 
out  of  her  lap  and  put  them  in  her  pocket.  Then 
she  got  up  off  the  three-legged  stool  and  looked 
uneasily  at  Zillah,  and  from  Zillah  towards  the 
direction  in  which  Dick  had  gone.  It  was  in  her 
mind  to  go  and  see  what  Dick  was  about  to  do  to 
poor  Tim.  But  Tab  was  not  very  strong  on  her 
legs,  and  she  was  so  unused  to  walking  abroad  that 
she  hardly  knew  how  to  set  about  it.  Somehow  it 
seemed  so  different  to  getting  about  the  little  garret 
at  home. 


ALWAYS  AFTER  MISCHIEF.  77 

Zillah  opened  her  eyes  on  seeing  the  gooseberries 
disappear  in  Tab's  pocket.  "  Ain't  you  going  to 
eat  'em  ? "  asked  she.  The  child  had  a  sort  of  idea 
that  if  they  were  eaten  at  all  she  would  get  her 
share,  and  that  would  partly  make  up  for  those  she 
had  been  obliged  to  give  up  to  Dick.  But  Tab 
shook  her  head.  "I'm  going  to  keep  'em  for  Tim," 
said  she  ;  so  Zillah  said  no  more  about  it. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Tab  ? "  asked  she  next, 
as  Tab,  after  balancing  herself  a  few  moments,  in 
order  to  get  used  to  the  new  position  of  standing, 
stepped  stiffly  down  on  to  the  gravel. 

"  Going  to  look  what  Dick's  after  with  Tim,"  was 
the  reply ;  and  Tab  slowly  made  her  way  round  the 
corner  of  the  house,  and  down  the  cinder  path  be- 
tween the  rows  of  peas  and  beans,  from  which  the 
unlucky  flowers  had  been  plucked. 

"  Never  knew  they  growed  like  that  afore,"  said 
Zillah  to  herself,  as  she  followed.  How  should  she, 
poor  child  ? 

But  nothing  was  to  be  seen  of  either  Dick  or 
Tim,  and  Tab  finally  returned  to  the  porch,  very 
tired  with  her  search.  In  the  garden  hedge  was  a 
gap  through  which  Tim  was  in  the  habit  of  mak- 
ing his  escape  when  he  had  incurred  his  brother's 
displeasure,  and  Dick  had  gone  through  after  him. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
A     WHITE    LIE. 

MRS.  GRAYSON  had  been  rather  surprised 
to  see  the  three  children  carting  in  their 
picnic  tea  from  the  plantation.  But  in  giving  the 
reason  Miriam  had  not  told  the  ivhole  truth.  She 
knew  quite  well  that  if  her  mother  heard  how  Tom 
Rivers  had  come  to  the  rescue,  she  would  insist  upon 
his  being  properly  thanked,  and  Miriam  was  in  no 
mood  for  humbling  herself  so  far.  She  therefore 
simply  said  that  they  had  seen  an  adder  in  the  grass, 
and  thought  it  wisest  to  come  away  at  once — a 
piece  of  prudence  which  Mrs.  Grayson  heartily 
commended.  The  adventure,  however,  rather  upset 
Miriam's  enjoyment  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  not  only 
by  frightening  her,  but  because,  try  as  she  would  to 
justify  herself,  conscience  would  not  let  her  be  quite 
comfortable  about  the  half-truth  she  had  told. 

To  be  sure,  it  was  not  a  downright  lie.  It  was 
true  they  had  come  away  because  of  the  adder  they 
had  seen ;  but  it  was  also  true  that  Tom  had  risked 


A    WHITE  LIE.  79 

himself  for  their  sakes,  and  Miriam  had  an  uncom- 
fortable foreboding  that  some  time  or  other,  some  how 
or  other,  that  other  half  of  the  truth  would  come 
out.  For  truth  is  like  a  jack-in-the-box.  The  least 
touch  undoes  the  catch  that  keeps  it  hidden ;  then 
back  flies  the  lid  and  up  pops  its  head,  and  the 
secret  is  out. 

As  it  happened,  it  came  out  sooner  than  even 
Miriam  expected. 

Great-uncle  Merry  always  came  down  to  see  them 
about  this  time,  and  as  he  could  not  come  on  Miriam's 
birthday,  he  had  written  to  fix  the  day  after. 
Miriam  was  a  good  deal  excited  about  it.  He  had 
sent  her  a  lovely  scrap-album,  for  which  she  wanted 
to  thank  him  ;  she  was  also  very  anxious  to  show 
off  the  gold  locket  which  she  had  bought  with  his 
half-sovereign,  and  to  coax  the  old  gentleman  into 
allowing  her  to  take  one  of  his  silver  ringlets  to  fix 
inside  the  glass  opposite  his  portrait.  But  by  the 
time  Uncle  Merry  arrived  a  cloud  had  drifted  up 
into  Miriam's  sky. 

Mrs.  Grayson,  walking  up  to  the  shops,  to  see  if 
she  could  procure  some  asparagus — of  which  Uncle 
Merry  was  particularly  fond — had  met  Tom  and 
Katie's  mother,  and  learned  the  whole  history  of  the 
adventure  with  the  adder. 

After  dinner  Uncle  Merry  proposed  a  walk. 

Mrs.  Grayson  always  rested  of  an  afternoon.     Not 


8o  A    WHITE  LIE. 

being  over  strong,  her  morning's  household  duties 
tired  her.  But  Uncle  Merry,  despite  his  seventy 
and  odd  years,  was  always  ready  for  a  stroll  as  soon 
as  he  had  smoked  his  pipe ;  and  he  was  quite  con- 
tent to  see  his  niece  comfortably  settled  on  the  couch 
whilst  Miriam  accompanied  him. 

"  Trust  us  for  getting  along  all  right  together ; 
hey,  Mirry  ? "  said  the  old  gentleman,  reaching  out 
his  hand  to  catch  hers  ;  for  they  always  went  about 
hand -in -hand.  "  We'll  just  have  a  look  at  the 
poultry-yard,  and  smell  the  hay ;  then  we'll  stroll 
down  to  the  plantation  and  round  the  field,  and  by 
the  time  we  get  back  you'll  be  waking  up  for  tea." 

Mrs.  Grayson  smiled  and  nodded  as  she  settled 
herself  among  the  sofa  cushions.  "  I  should  advise 
you,  though,  to  be  careful  how  you  go  in  the  planta- 
tion, uncle,"  said  she.  "Adders  have  found  their 
way  there." 

"  Adders,  eh  !  "  exclaimed  Uncle  Merry.  "  That's 
a  pity.  It's  such  a  pretty  place  to  stroll  in. 
Londoners  like  me  think  a  world  of  trees  and 
greenery  after  all  the  bricks  and  chimney-pots. 
We  ought  to  put  a  premium  of  half-a-crown  apiece 
on  their  heads — like  one  of  our  English  kings  did 
upon  the  wolves — and  get  the  place  cleared  of  the 
pest.  But  we'll  take  care ;  so  don't  be  fidgety  on 
our  account,  and  spoil  your  nap." 

Mrs.  Grayson  promised,  saying  she  wasn't  afraid 


A    WHITE  LIE.  8 1 

to  trust  Uncle  Merry  to  be  prudent ;  so  he  and 
Miriam  went  off  together. 

At  the  first  mention  of  adders  Miriam  had  hung 
her  head  and  begun  to  feel  uncomfortable.  She 
didn't  exactly  want  that  Uncle  Merry  should  hear 
the  whole  of  the  story.  But  Miriam's  mamma  was 
not  one  to  tell  tales ;  and  as  for  Uncle  Merry,  he 
was  so  much  taken  up  with  all  there  was  to  be 
seen  directly  they  got  outside,  that  he  asked  no 
further  questions  about  the  plantation.  He  went 
round  and  looked  at  all  the  sitting-hens  in  their 
wicker  coops  on  the  lawn,  and  heard  how  many 
there  were  in  each  brood,  and  how  each  mother- 
bird  declined  to  allow  members  of  her  neighbours' 
families  to  intrude  under  her  wings.  He  watched 
old  Spinks  milking  the  cows,  and  asked  him  no  end 
of  questions  about  the  hay  and  other  crops,  and 
went  to  smell  the  fresh,  sweet  stacks;  for  Uncle 
Merry,  like  all  Londoners,  was  very  fond  of  hay, 
and  would  have  romped  like  any  tomboy  if  he  had 
come  down  whilst  it  was  being  tossed.  Then  he 
walked  on  through  the  orchard  and  down  the  field 
to  the  gate  of  the  plantation. 

"  We  must  peep  over,  even  if  we  don't  go  in," 
said  Uncle  Merry,  resting  on  the  gate.  Then  he 
began  to  ask  about  the  adders — how  many  had 
been  seen,  and  who  had  seen  them,  and  so  forth. 

Miriam  told  him  "only  one,"  and  that  it  had  been 

(254)  6 


82  A    WHITE  LIE. 

killed ;  and  by  degrees  it  all  came  out  how  she  and 
Madge  and  Terry  were  going  to  have  tea  there,  out 
among  the  trees,  when  they  were  frightened  away 
by  this  horrid  viper ;  but  how  a  boy,  hearing  their 
screams,  had  jumped  over  the  fence  and  beaten  it 
to  death  with  a  stick. 

Miriam  was  rather  fond  of  relating  adventures, 
and  she  had  unconsciously  pictured  the  incident  so 
graphically  that  Uncle  Merry  listened  with  breath- 
less interest.  The  only  detail  she  kept  back  was 
the  name  of  the  hero ;  but  that  didn't  suit  Uncle 
Merry. 

"  Well,"  observed  he,  "  all's  well  that  ends  well. 
But  you  haven't  told  me  your  deliverer's  name. 
He  was  a  plucky  chap,  and  he  deserves  a  gold 
medal." 

Miriam  answered  that  he  was  brother  to  a  school- 
fellow of  hers. 

"  I  should  think  his  sister  must  be  proud  of  him," 
said  Uncle  Merry. 

Miriam  held  her  tongue.  All  her  sprightliness 
seemed  to  have  vanished  on  a  sudden. 

"  Yes,"  resumed  Uncle  Merry,  "  he  richly  deserves 
a  gold  medal,  this — what's  his  name  ?  " 

"Tom,"  said  Miriam  reluctantly. 

"  This  Tom,"  repeated  Uncle  Merry.  "  But  after 
all,"  continued  he,  "  I'd  give  more  for  a  lad  whose 
brave  deeds  weren't  done  for  the  sake  of  any  medal. 


A    WHITE  LIE.  83 

The  knights  in  olden  times,  you  know,  were  quite 
content  to  have  the  lady's  thanks;  and  I  daresay 
this  Tom  was  quite  content  with  yours.  You'll  be 
grand  friends,  you  and  Tom." 

Miriam  still  held  her  tongue. 

"  I  should  like  to  thank  him  too,"  said  Uncle 
Merry.  "  I  feel  as  if  I  owed  him  a  good  deal  for 
his  defence  of  my  grandniece — a  good  deal  more 
than  any  medal  could  repay." 

This  was  getting  too  hot  for  Miriam.  "  Very 
likely  he  wouldn't  want  your  thanks,"  said  she, 
looking  down  and  plucking  at  the  leaves  on  the 
hedge.  Miriam  was  very  uncomfortable,  and  heartily 
wished  her  temper  hadn't  got  her  into  such  a  hobble. 

"  Not  want  my  thanks  !  "  exclaimed  Uncle  Merry 
in  surprise.  "  Why  ?  I  should  have  thought  he 
would  have  been  just  a  trifle  proud  of  himself. 
Heroes  usually  like  to  wear  their  laurels." 

"  He  wouldn't  have  my  thanks,"  said  Miriam,  a 
trifle  sullenly. 

"  Ah  !  of  course  he's  modest,"  said  Uncle  Merry, 
"  and  pretends  he  hasn't  done  anything  worth  mak- 
ing so  much  fuss  about.  But  I've  a  very  great 
mind,"  added  Uncle  Merry,  "to  give  him  a  gold 
medal  just  because  he  is  a  modest  boy  and  a  brave 
one  too.  What  do  you  say  to  that  ? "  He  brought 
a  gold  sovereign  out  of  his  waistcoat  pocket.  "  He 
deserves  every  farthing  of  that." 


84  A    WHITE  LIE. 

"  No  he  doesn't,"  cried  Miriam,  with  sudden  deter- 
mination ;  "and  he  isn't  modest  at  all.  He's  a  nasty, 
disagreeable  boy,  and  I  hate  him,  Uncle  Merry." 

Uncle  Merry  had  never  looked  so  utterly  aston- 
ished in  his  life,  or  at  least  Miriam  had  never  seen 
him  look  so.  "  Hate  the  boy  that  saved  your  life  !  " 
cried  he.  "  Never !  " 

Then  Miriam  was  obliged,  in  self -justification,  to 
tell  the  whole  story  over,  from  the  first  day  in  the 
plantation,  when  Tom  behaved  so  badly  about  the 
primroses,  to  the  day  of  her  ill-fated  picnic-party, 
when  he  sprained  his  ankle  in  his  ill-natured  haste 
to  get  away  from  her. 

"  Here's  a  kettle  of  fish  ! "  exclaimed  Uncle  Merry 
when  he  had  heard  it  all.  "  Tom  doesn't  deserve 
his  gold  medal  so  thoroughly  as  I  thought." 

"  He  don't  deserve  it  at  all,"  interrupted  Miriam, 
who  felt  rather  like  crying  by  this  time. 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Uncle  Merry, 
looking  grave :  "  no  more  did  you  deserve  that  gold 
half-sovereign  you  bought  the  locket  with  ;  for  you 
are  as  bad  as  Tom,  and  there's  a  pair  of  you." 

Miriam's  countenance  fell  further  still. 

"  Yes,"  said  Uncle  Merry,  "  it's  six  of  one  and 
half-a-dozen  of  the  other ;  and  I  don't  see  a  pin  to 
choose  between  you." 

"  But  it's  all  Tom's  fault,"  reasoned  Miriam  ;  "  he 
began  it  by  teasing  me." 


A    WHITE  LIE.  85 

"  Very  bad  of  him,  too,"  returned  Uncle  Merry. 
"  But  if  little  girls  don't  learn  to  take  teasing 
good-humouredly,  they'll  grow  up  dreadful-tempered 
women.  If  you  had  given  Tom  good-natured 
answers,  you'd  have  turned  all  his  gibes  and  jeers 
into  fun — which  is  what  you  boys  and  girls  are  all 
so  fond  of. 

"  Now  I'll  tell  you  what  I'd  like  to  see  both  you 
and  Tom  do,"  continued  Uncle  Merry,  as  Miriam  bit 
her  lips  and  looked  down.  "  I'd  like  to  see  you 
join  a  band  of  kindness — not  pledged  to  look  out 
for  heroic  deeds  to  do,  you  know ;  but  just  to  do 
the  little,  simple  acts  of  daily  kindness  that  go  to 
make  life  sweet.  Heroic  deeds  are  like  birthdays 
and  anniversaries,  and  the  grottoes  poor  children 
build  with  oyster-shells  and  bits  of  tile — 'they're 
only  once  a  year.'  It  would  be  a  terrible  world  if 
there  were  adders  to  kill  and  giants  to  slay  every 
day  of  the  year.  But  little  acts  of  kindness  are  to 
be  done  every  day,  and  every  minute  of  the  day ; 
and  by  doing  them  we  get  our  hands  in  for  the 
greater  acts." 

But  it  was  now  time  to  return  to  the  house  for 
tea ;  so  Uncle  Merry  took  his  arms  off  the  gate, 
and  they  began  to  retrace  their  steps.  But  Miriam 
no  longer  laughed  and  chatted  gaily,  as  she  had 
done  coming  out,  for  she  could  feel  that  she  had 
lowered  herself  in  Uncle  Merry's  eyes. 


86  A    WHITE  LIE. 

"  Now  when  I'm  gone,"  said  Uncle  Merry,  as 
they  crossed  the  lawn  towards  Mrs.  Grayson,  who 
was  stepping  out  to  meet  them,  "  think  what  there 
is  that  you  could  do  to  make  Tom's  time  pass 
pleasantly.  Take  him  a  book  to  read,  or  gather 
him  a  bunch  of  flowers,  or  get  your  scissors  and 
cut  him  a  basketful  of  that  lovely  mustard  and 
cress  that  is  to  burn  my  mouth  at  tea ;  and  let  him 
see  that  you  are  sorry  for  the  accident  he  met  with 
in  serving  you,  and  that  you  are  ready  to  go  half- 
way towards  making  the  quarrel  up." 

And  Miriam  had  more  than  half  a  mind  to  do  it. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PULLING   ONIONS. 

WHILST  Great-uncle  Merry  was  leaning  on 
the  plantation  gate  lecturing  Miriam,  Tom 
was  grumbling  away  in  style  upon  his  couch,  with 
the  injured  ankle  on  a  cushion;  and  whilst  Katie 
was  doing  her  best  to  console  and  amuse  Tom,  Tab 
in  turn,  after  her  own  quaint  fashion,  was  lecturing 
Dick. 

When  last  we  heard  of  Dick  he  had  gone  through 
the  hole  in  the  hedge  after  silly  Tim.  Now  Dick 
never  went  on  this  quest  after  his  .unfortunate  step- 
brother but .  he  returned  triumphant ;  for  Tim's 
utmost  cunning  consisted  in  skulking  a  little  way 
along  the  lane  beyond  the  field,  and  squatting  down 
to  hide  behind  a  gate-post  or  tree-trunk.  The 
consequence  was  that  Tim  came  in  to  dinner  blubber- 
ing miserably  to  himself ;  and  when  Tab  held  open 
her  pocket-slit  to  show  him  the  gooseberries,  he 
cast  a  frightened  look  towards  Dick,  and  actually 
ran  away. 


88  PULLING   ONIONS. 

Tab  guessed  all  about  it  in  a  minute.  Dick, 
determined  that  Tim  should  not  have  the  goose- 
berries she  had  refused  to  him,  had  taken  means  to 
convince  the  poor  fellow  that  it  would  be  better  not 
to  defy  his  wishes.  But  this  time  Dick  had  gone 
a  little  too  far.  Just  as  Tim  ran  out  in  came  the 
father,  tired  with  his  long  morning's  work,  and 
hungry  for  his  dinner.  Now  Dick's  father  was  not 
a  mild  man,  and  if  the  boys  were  not  in  the  kitchen 
ready  to  sit  down  as  he  set  foot  on  the  threshold, 
he  invariably  kicked  up  a  fuss. 

"  Where  be  Tim  ? "  snarled  he,  casting  his  eye 
round. 

"  Just  this  very  minute  run  out  again,"  responded 
Mrs.  Bull,  as  she  lifted  the  saucepan  to  turn  out 
the  dish  of  rice  and  skimmed  milk  with  which  the 
children  were  to  commence.  "  Dick  had  better  go 
and  fetch  him  in." 

However,  Dick  returned  to  say  that  Tim  was 
nowhere  about.  The  fact  was,  he  had  taken  flight 
through  the  gap  in  the  hedge  again ;  and  it  did  not 
suit  Dick's  purpose  to  follow  him  up  just  as  dinner 
was  being  served  out.  But  Tim's  father  was  not 
satisfied.  He  had  more  than  once  had  to  adminis- 
ter correction  in  Tim's  defence. 

"  Tell  you  what ! "  exclaimed  he,  bringing  his  fist 
down  on  the  table  with  such  force  that  Tab  and 
Zillah  burned  their  mouths  with  the  hot  rice, — "  tell 


PULLING   ONIONS.  89 

you  what  it  is  i  You've  been  at  him  again.  Now 
you've  got  to  fetch  him  in  before  you  have  a  bit  of 
dinner."  And  Dick  knew  by  past  experience  that 
there  was  no  appeal ;  so  out  he  rushed,  bent  upon 
hunting  Tim  in  pretty  quickly. 

When  Dick's  father  had  disposed  of  his  bacon 
and  greens,  and  finished  his  crust  of  bread  and 
cheese,  he  pushed  back  his  chair,  and  looked  so 
terrible  at  Dick  that  Tab  and  Zillah  wondered 
what  was  coming.  Dick,  however,  went  on  uncon- 
sciously enough,  spooning  away  as  fast  as  he  could 
at  his  plate  of  rice,  and  after  a  minute  or  so  Mr. 
Bull  tipped  his  chair  back  on  its  hind  legs  and 
reached  down  a  short  clay  pipe  off  the  cupboard  by 
the  chimney-place.  This  he  filled  and  lighted,  after 
which  he  stood  up  from  his  chair  and  looked  at 
Dick  again.  Then  he  walked  to  the  door. 

"  Them  two  rows  o'  'taters  wants  hoeing,"  said 
he,  facing  about  again  upon  the  threshold ;  "  and 
them  injuns  must  be  pulled  to-day.  I  want  the 
bed  broke  up ;  and  I  shall  look  to  see  'em  laid  to 
dry  'gin  I  come  in  again." 

"  A  precious  nice  job  with  the  sun  right  on  your 
back  !  "  grumbled  Dick.  "  They  can  wait." 

"Them  as  works  with  the  sun  on  their  backs 
ha'n't  got  no  time  for  mischief,"  said  Dick's  father 
sternly.  "Mind  they're  done,  out  of  hand,  afore 
I'm  back,  or  you'll  get  ne'er  a  crumb  this  side  o' 


90  PULLING  ONIONS. 

to-morrow  morning.  Holidays  don't  do  some  people 
no  good,  but  only  makes  'em  lazy  and  spiteful  and 
good  for  nothing." 

So  all  that  afternoon,  with  the  scorching  August 
sun  upon  his  back,  and  the  perspiration  beading  on 
his  brow,  Dick  had  to  work  away  at  his  penance. 

By-and-by,  when  the  shadow  from  the  pear-tree 
lengthened,  Tab  left  her  seat  in  the  porch  and  slowly 
made  her  way  down  the  cinder-ash  path  between 
the  beans  and  peas  to  where  Dick  was  hoeing. 
Dick  went  on  without  looking  up,  and  Tab  stood 
watching,  whilst  the  hoe  chopped  up  the  mould  and 
gathered  it  together  in  a  ridge  along  the  row. 

"  What's  that  for  ?  "  asked  she  presently. 

"  To  make  anybody  sweat,  I  should  say,"  returned 
Dick  promptly,  unbending  his  back  and  pushing 
back  his  hat. 

"  What  good  does  it  do  the  plants,  I  mean  ? "  said 
Tab. 

"  Makes  'em  grow  big  'taters,"  answered  Dick. 

Tab  could  not  see  any  at  present,  and  she  said 
so,  causing  Dick  to  roar  with  merriment.  "  As  if 
'taters  came  like  apples  ! "  grinned  he. 

Tab  inquired,  "  How  then  ? "  and  was  surprised 
to  hear  that  they  grew  and  multiplied  beneath  the 
soil  from  the  slices  of  original  potato  that  were 
planted  there.  These  simple  facts  that  Dick  thought 
he  never  had  to  learn  appeared  such  marvels  to 


PULLING   ONIONS.  91 

this  poor  child  of  brick -and -mortar  London,  who 
had  never  seen  a  green  thing  spring  up  in  her  life. 
"  I  should  like  making  'em  grow,"  said  she.  "  It'd 
seem  that  they  must  love  me  for  it,  like  our  sparrows 
do  when  Zill  and  me  puts  crumbs  out  on  the  tiles." 

Such  poetic  fancy  was  beyond  Dick's  comprehen- 
sion. "  There's  all  them  injuns  yet  to  pull,"  re- 
turned he,  thinking  more  about  the  hot  sun  on  his 
back. 

"  Wish  I  could  help  you,"  Tab  said  shyly. 

"  You  ain't  good  for  pulling  injuns,"  said  Dick, 
with  some  contempt. 

"  Zill  is,  though,"  said  Tab,  looking  round  for  her. 

"Zill  don't  care  for  work,"  said  Dick;  "she'd 
rather  be  my  horse,  if  I  don't  drive  too  hard." 

"She  works  at  home,"  said  Tab.  "Zill's  a  rare 
good  girl,"  she  added  proudly. 

"  I'd  rather  bet  on  you  nor  her,"  said  Dick. 

, "  I  think,"  said  Tab  presently,  "  that  I  could  pull 
some  '  injuns '  if  you  showed  me  how."  So  Dick 
put  down  his  hoe  and  came  to  show  her  how ;  and 
whilst  Zillah  frisked  about  after  the  butterflies  in 
the  field  whither  she  had  followed  Tim  through  the 
gap,  Tab's  poor  weak  back  was  bent  over  the  onion- 
bed  against  a  row  of  scarlet-runners  all  in  bloom. 
In  a  very  little  while  she  sat  down  on  the  cinder- 
path  and  pulled  them  so,  because  it  tired  her  to 
stoop. 


92  PULLING   ONIONS. 

After  a  bit  Dick,  having  got  through  with  his 
hoeing,  came  and  commenced  pulling  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  bed. 

"  It  don't  half  make  you,  hot,"  said  Dick,  whose 
own  face  was  streaming  by  this  time. 

"  I  ha'n't  been  hoeing,"  answered  Tab.  "  Besides, 
I  like  to  feel  the  sun  warm  on  my  back.  It  never 
shines  in  our  garret — only  up  on  the  roof,  and 
bakes  us,  like  an  oven." 

Dick  pulled  away  in  silence.  He  rather  liked 
talking  to  Tab ;  only  he  was  a  bad  hand  at  finding 
much  to  say. 

"  Tim 's  your  brother,  ain't  he  ? "  Tab  asked  sud- 
denly, when  they  had  been  some  while  without 
speaking. 

"  Step-brother,"  corrected  Dick. 

"  That  don't  make  much  difference,  does  it  ? "  said 
Tab. 

"  His  mother  ain't  my  mother ;  that's  all,"  ex- 
plained Dick. 

"She's  good  to  you,  though,"  said  Tab;  "and 
you're  real  bad  to  Tim.  If  I  was  you  I'd  be  more 
kind  to  him,  poor  fellow." 

Dick  held  his  tongue,  and  Tab  on  her  side  said 
no  more.  But  when  the  father  came  from  work, 
and  growled  because  all  the  onions  weren't  all 
pulled,  she  interposed.  "  He's  gone  on  hard  all  the 
time/'  said  she ;  "  and  I've  been  helpin'  him." 


CHAPTER    XV. 

TOM'S   GOLD  MEDAL, 

FROM  that  day  forward  an  odd  kind  of  friend- 
ship sprang  up  between  Tab  and  Dick,  and  it 
was  very  curious  to  watch  the  pains  which  the  rough, 
rude  boy  would  take  to  please  her :  how  he  would 
stand  for  an  hour  at  a  time  against  the  porch  try- 
ing to  answer  her  many  questions  about  the  hun- 
dred and  one  things  in  country  life  that  she  was 
ignorant  of;  how  he  would  catch  moths  and  butter- 
flies and  beetles  and  caterpillars  for  her  to  look  at, 
or  instruct  her  in  the  mysteries  of  sowing  and  of 
gathering  in — that  "  seed-time  and  harvest "  of 
which  till  then  poor  Tab  had  known  so  little. 
But  never  again  did  he  claim  a  share  of  Tab's 
good  things,  though  perhaps  he  got  no  less  on  that 
account ;  and  all  this  while  poor  silly  Tim  had 
peace. 

Meanwhile,  an  important  change  had  come  over 
the  appearance  of  the  two  slum  children.  Their 
poor  old  dust-coloured  garments  had  given  place  to 


94  TOM'S  GOLD  MEDAL. 

clean,  bright  prints — last  year's  frocks,  which  Mrs. 
Rivers  had  brought  out  and  made  over  with  Katie's 
help,  sitting  by  Tom's  sofa,  near  the  open  window. 

"  They  look  like  butterflies  just  out  of  the 
chrysalis,"  Katie  reported,  after  witnessing  the 
metamorphosis. 

They  were  fitted  up  with  a  stout  new  pair  of 
boots  each,  too,  and  two  cast-off  hats  of  Katie's, 
which,  if  rather  sunburnt  as  Katie's  standard 
went,  looked  very  neat  and  smart  against  the 
tawdry,  faded  head-gear  in  which  they  had  left 
home.  Better  still,  their  thin  arms  grew  daily 
plumper  and  more  round  with  care  and  rest  and 
better  feeding  ;  their  wan,  pale  cheeks  took  on  a 
healthy  bronze  out  in  the  sunshine  and  free  air 
from  morn  till  night ;  and  they  lost  the  old,  pinched 
look  that  London  children  have.  Only  now  and 
again  Tab,  watching  Zillah  romping  in  the  field 
with  Tim,  would  heave  a  sigh  to  think  that  she 
must  go  back  to  her  hard,  dark  life  among  the  tiles. 
She  did  not  mind  so  much  about  herself,  for  she 
could  never  dance  with  glee  as  Zillah  did ;  so  per- 
haps it  didn't  matter  quite  so  much,  she  thought, 
that  she  should  leave  the  sunshine  and  the  flowers 
and  go  back  to  want  and  pinch.  She  did  not  even 
know  that  there  is  much  want  and  pinch,  too,  even 
in  the  country,  and  that  when  the  trees  are  bare  and 
the  heavens  black,  frost  kills  the  birds  among  the 


TOM'S  GOLD  MEDAL.  95 

boughs  as  well  as  underneath  the  city  eaves.  She 
only  knew  the  country  in  the  summer-time,  and 
that  was  very  beautiful. 

Tab  loved  the  birds,  especially  the  blackbirds 
that  awoke  her  with  their  sunrise  hymns.  Dick 
found  that  out,  and  promised  he  would  catch  her 
one  to  take  back  home.  But  Tab  begged  mercy 
for  the  little  things.  She  could  not  bear  to  think 
of  caging  them  as  she  was  caged,  when  they  had 
wings  to  fly.  "God  would  be  angry  with  me,  I 
think,"  she  told  Dick  in  her  simple  way.  Never- 
theless, she  was  very  pleased  when  he  announced 
that  he  had  found  a  nest  to  show  her,  and  even 
trusted  him  to  ride  her  down  the  field  in  the  big 
wheelbarrow. 

A  week  before,  Dick  would  have  plucked  this  nest 
ruthlessly  from  its  bough,  and  laughed  at  the  idea 
of  caring  for  the  anguish  of  the  parent  birds ;  but 
since  Tab  thought  it  cruel,  the  pleasure  of  it  seemed 
gone. 

All  this  while  Tom  and  Katie  were  of  course  not 
Tab  and  Zillah's  only  benefactors.  Most  of  the 
boys  and  girls  who  had  contributed  to  afford  them 
this  holiday,  felt  bound  to  come  and  see  them  at 
the  cottage ;  and  almost  each  one  brought  some 
trifling  gift.  Some  brought  flowers,  some  nice 
things  to  eat.  One,  who  had  heard  a  good  deal  of 
talk  about  window-gardening  for  the  London  poor, 


96  TOM'S  GOLD  MEDAL. 

collected  a  packet  of  seeds  for  Tab  to  sow  when 
spring  came  round  again ;  another  brought  some 
snowdrop  bulbs  and  crocuses.  Some  sought  out 
old  toys  and  puzzles;  others,  left-off  gloves  and 
scarves.  One  girl  had  knitted  woollen  stockings 
for  the  winter -time;  one  had  darned  up  several 
worn  pairs  of  her  own.  One  gave  a  crochet  shawl 
that  she  was  working  for  herself ;  another  begged 
her  mother's  list,  and  made  some  nice  warm  stays : 
and  so  the  presents  kept  on  pouring  in  till  Tab  and 
Zillah  felt  themselves  to  be  quite  rich. 

Miriam  heard  all  about  it  from  time  to  time 
through  Terry  Grainger,  whose  cousin,  Tiny  Rad- 
ford,  it  was  who  had  made  the  list  stays.  Tiny  had 
tried  hard  to  coax  Terry  into  going  with  her  to  the 
cottage ;  but  Terry  was  in  too  much  fear  of  Miriam 
to  venture  upon  such  a  step,  and  Madge  Tewson, 
who  was  by,  quite  ridiculed  the  idea. 

"  As  if  they  were  princesses ! "  exclaimed  she, 
"  instead  of  nasty-smelling  children  from  the  slums, 
with  ragged  clothes  and  dirty  faces.  I  should  think 
they  must  be  pretty  well  puffed  up  with  self-conceit 
by  this  time.  Half  the  people  in  the  place  have 
been  to  kiss  their  hands  ! " 

"  If  you  could  see  the  difference  in  them  since 
they  came,"  argued  Tiny,  "  I'm  sure  you'd  wish  that 
you  were  in  it." 

Now  being  "out  of  it "  was  just  what  aggravated 


TOM'S   COLD  MEDAL.  97 

Miriam,  only  she  would  not  have  this  known  for 
anything. 

"  You  talk  as  if  there  was  nothing  in  the  world 
to  do  but  heap  one's  charity  on  their  two  heads," 
said  she  disdainfully;  "as  if  there  were  no  other 
poor ! " 

"  Oh,  I  know  there  are,"  said  Tiny — "  so  very 
many,  quite  as  poor  as  they." 

"  Well,  we've  got  our  own  scheme,"  said  Miriam 
curtly,  turning  away  and  pulling  Terry  with  her ; 
"  and  we  shan't  ask  you,  to  help."  And  Miriam  did 
think,  just  for  the  time,  that  she  would  give  a 
children's  Christmas  dinner,  or  do  something  of  the 
kind,  when  winter  came.  "  I've  only  got  to  ask 
Great-uncle  Merry,"  said  she,  quite  confident  that 
he  would  empty  his  purse  into  her  lap  when  he 
heard  of  the  scheme,  and  buy  her  all  the  usual 
presents  besides.  "Uncle  Merry's  very  rich." 

Meanwhile,  Uncle  Merry's  injunction  with  regard 
to  Tom  had  been  entirely  neglected,  and  poor  Tom 
got  out  again  and  swung  himself  about  on  crutches 
without  having  received  a  word  of  thanks  from  her. 
Great-uncle  Merry  had  not  forgotten,  though ;  and 
Tom  had  received  the  gold  medal  he  had  spoken  of 
to  Miriam,  together  with  a  letter  full  of  thanks, 
begging  its  acceptance  in  token  of  his  appreciation 
of  the  boy's  heroic  act. 

Tom  had  never   in   his   life   before   possessed   a 

(254)  7 


98  TOM^S   GOLD  MEDAL. 

sovereign  all  his  own.  To  Katie  it  seemed  a  mine 
of  money  in  itself.  "  You  won't  know  what  to  do 
with  it,"  said  she. 

"  Oh,  shan't  I  ?  "  contradicted  Tom.  "  Money 
soon  slips  through  your  hands.  I  want  that  model 
engine,  and  a  box  of  compasses,  and  lots  of  things. 
I  mean  to  be  an  engineer,  you  know,  and  build 
bridges  and  lay  railways  where  even  Stanley  hasn't 
been.  And  perhaps  I'll  buy  you  something  out  of  it." 

Katie  said  nothing  just  then ;  but  when  the  end 
of  Tab  and  Zillah's  stay  drew  near,  she  went  and 
joined  him  one  morning  on  the  grass,  where  he  lay 
reading  in  the  shade  of  the  wych-elm.  "  Tom,"  said 
she,  "I  wish  that  sovereign  was  mine." 

"  That  you  do,  I'll  wager,"  answered  Tom. 
"  Girls  are  always  after  money.  What  would  you 
do  with  it  ?  " 

"  Give  Tab  and  Zillah  just  another  week,"  said 
Katie,  half  in  hopes  that  he  would  take  the  hint. 

"  That's  more  than  either  of  them  can  expect," 
said  Tom  decidedly.  "  We  can't  give  all  our  money 
up  to  them." 

"  O  Tom,"  cried  Katie,  "  I  can't  bear  the  thought 
of  letting  them  go  back." 

"  It's  Miriam's  turn,"  said  Tom.  "  It  isn't  fair 
that  we  should  do  it  all." 

"  Not  fair,  exactly,  perhaps,"  said  Katie  thought- 
fully. "  That  isn't  what  we've  got  to  think  about 


TOM'S   GOLD  MEDAL.  99 

in  doing  good.  We  ought  to  do  it  just  because  we 
want  to." 

"And  if  we  don't  want  to,  we  ought  not,"  reasoned 
Tom,  with  false  logic.  "  So  there's  an  end  of  it ;  " 
and  Katie  said  no  more. 

That  afternoon  Katie  stole  up  to  her  room  and 
took  out  her  gold  locket — the  one  she  had  worn  at 
the  party  in  the  spring,  when  Miriam  so  envied 
her.  It  was  a  pretty  one,  and  Katie's  fingers  lin- 
gered over  it  as  she  hung  it  round  her  neck.  Then 
she  took  it  off  again,  and  turned  it  over  many  times, 
and  finally  she  clasped  it  on  again.  Now  it  was 
not  like  Katie  to  be  fond  of  dressing  up,  and  just 
now  she  was  only  testing  her  powers  of  self-denial. 
She  wanted  to  make  sure  that  she  would  not  be 
very  sorry  when  it  was  too  late  to  draw  back. 

Now  it  happened  that  Dick  had  taken  it  into 
his  head  to  give  Tab  a  great  treat  that  afternoon. 
His  father's  master  having  bought  a  crop  of  pears 
in  an  orchard  half-a-mile  beyond,  Dick  had  offered 
Tab  the  ride  there  in  the  barrow  to  see  them  gath- 
ered, and  pick  the  bruised  ones  up ;  and  Katie, 
standing  near  her  window  making  up  her  mind, 
saw  them  all  pass  by — Tab  in  the  barrow  on  a 
sack  of  straw,  with  Tim  and  Zillah  harnessed  on 
in  front,  and  Dick  to  wheel  behind,  and  all  so 
full  of  fun  and  merriment  that  in  an  instant  the 
scale  was  turned,  and  Katie's  mind  made  up. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

A    SAD  LOSS. 

THE  question  was,  how  to  dispose  of  the  locket, 
and  how  much  it  would  fetch. 

The  jeweller  and  watchmaker  in  the  street  would 
buy  it,  Katie  felt  quite  certain ;  but  there  was  an 
uncomfortable  doubt  in  her  mind  as  to  whether  she 
had  any  right  to  part  with  it  without  her  mother's 
leave.  "  It's  my  own,"  she  reasoned  ;  "  and  what  is 
the  use  of  having  property  of  one's  own,  if  one  may 
not  do  as  one  pleases  with  it  ?  It  is  not  as  if  I 
wanted  the  price  of  it  for  a  silly  purpose.  It  is 
for  such  a  good  cause.  Jesus  said,  '  Sell  what  thou 
hast,  and  give  to  the  poor.'  Surely  mamma  could 
not  object." 

"  Then  why  not  ask  her  ? "  said  another  voice, 
which  Katie  could  not  exactly  answer.  Just  in  the 
midst  of  her  perplexity  Mrs.  Rivers  called  to  her. 

"  Katie,"  said  she,  "  here  are  some  letters  I  want 
you  to  carry  to  the  post ;  and  you  may  take  this 
pot  of  currant  jelly  round  to  Mrs.  Bull's  for  Tab 


A   SAD  LOSS.  10 J 

and  Zillah.  I  have  quite  as  much  as  I  shall  want 
without  it ;  and  their  stay  is  nearly  up." 

There  was  an  opportunity  to  broach  the  question 
of  giving  them  another  week  ;  but  there  was  also 
the  chance  of  getting  out  alone  and  ascertaining  for 
herself  how  much  her  generosity  would  bring  her 
in,  for  the  jeweller's  was  next  door  to  the  post-office. 
Quickly  unfastening  the  locket  from  her  neck  and 
slipping  it  in  her  pocket,  Katie  put  on  her  hat,  and 
taking  a  pair  of  gloves  out  of  her  drawer,  ran 
downstairs,  putting  them  on  as  she  went. 

"  There  is  no  time  to  lose,"  her  mother  warned 
her  as  she  held  the  letters  out.  "  Post  these  first, 
and  then  go  on  to  the  cottage.  You  will  be  back 
in  plenty  of  time  for  tea."  So,  with  the  letters  and 
the  basket  in  her  hand,  off  ran  Katie,  feeling  rather 
guilty,  though,  it  must  be  owned. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  jeweller's  as  Katie 
passed ;  so,  quickly  counting  her  letters  and  slipping 
them  in  the  box,  with  a  glance  at  the  post-office 
clock  to  see  they  were  in  time,  she  turned  back  and 
stepped  in. 

The  old  jeweller  was  behind  the  counter,  busy 
cleaning  up  his  jewellery.  "  What  can  I  show  you, 
missie  ? "  asked  he,  holding  up  the  bit  of  silver 
filigree  that  he  was  brushing.  "  That's  a  pretty 
little  brooch  to  send  to  anybody  on  their  birthday," 
said  he,  turning  it  about  so  as  to  make  the  light 


102  A    SAD  LOSS. 

glitter  on  it.  Katie  had  more  than  once  bought 
birthday  gifts  there  for  her  little  friends,  and  he 
thought  she  might  be  wanting  one.  But  Katie 
shook  her  head. 

"  No  thank  you,  Mr.  Brett,"  said  she.  "  I've  no 
money  to  spend  on  birthdays  just  at  present." 

"  Insolvent,  eh  ? "  laughed  Mr.  Brett,  brushing 
away  at  the  little  brooch,  which  he  held  by  its  pin 
between  the  blackened  tips  of  his  finger  and  thumb. 
"  All  gone  in  sweets  ?  " 

Katie  smiled ;  but  she  was  too  eager  to  proceed 
to  business  to  make  answer  back.  Her  hand  was 
already  in  her  pocket.  "  I  wanted  you  to  tell  me 
how  much  you  could  give  me  for  this,"  she  said 
with  heightening  colour,  drawing  out  the  locket 
and  chain. 

"  How  much  ? "  repeated  Mr.  Brett,  looking  at 
her  outstretched  hand  in  some  astonishment.  "Why, 
you  don't  want  to  sell  your  locket  ? " 

"  I'm  thinking  about  doing  so,"  said  Katie  posi- 
tively. 

"  But  little  girls  that  live  at  home  don't  need  to 
sell  their  jewellery,"  objected  Mr.  Brett.  "  Their 
parents  buy  them  all  they  want." 

"  I  want  to  raise  some  money,"  said  Katie,  in  a 
tone  that  rather  seemed  to  say,  "  What  for,  is  no 
concern  of  yours."  "  How  much  is  it  worth  ?"  she 
asked  again. 


A    SAD  LOSS.  103 

Mr.  Brett  took  the  trinket,  turned  it  over,  ex- 
amined the  carat  mark,  and  weighed  it  in  his  hand. 
Then  he  pushed  his  glasses  up  and  looked  her  in 
the  eyes.  "  I  know  just  what  it's  worth,"  said  he, 
"  because  your  father  chose  it  from  this  very  case 
my  hand  is  on.  But  if  I  were  to  give  you  money 
for  it,  don't  you  see,  I  should  be  hauled  over  the 
coals  for  it,  because  you're  not  of  age,  and  infants 
aren't  allowed  to  sell  their  property  ?  It  isn't  theirs, 
you  know,  because  they're  not  their  own.  They 
belong  to  their  parents,  every  bit  of  'em,  until 
they're  twenty-one.  So  you  must  just  go  home,  and 
if  you're  bent  on  parting  with  it,  bring  your  parents' 
writing  to  the  bargain.  I  couldn't  buy  it  any  other 
way." 

Katie's  face  clouded  over. 

"If  I  were  you,"  said  Mr.  Brett,  "I'd  give  up 
such  a  ramshackle  idea.  Not  every  little  lady 
of  your  age  has  such  a  handsome  locket  of  her 
own." 

"But  then,  you  see,  you  don't  know  what  it's 
for,"  said  Katie,  as  she  took  the  locket  back.  "  It's 
not  for  anything  that's  wrong  or  silly,  Mr.  Brett ; 
indeed  it  isn't,"  she  added,  lingering  half  in  hopes 
he  would  relent. 

"  Of  course  not,"  answered  Mr.  Brett.  "  But  that 
being  so,  why  not  take  mamma  into  council  on  the 
subject  ? " 


104  A   SAD  LOSS. 

Katie  left  the  shop  disappointed,  and  turned  her 
steps  towards  Mrs.  Bull's. 

Of  course  Tab  and  Zillah  were  not  at  home  to 
thank  her ;  Mrs.  Bull  took  the  opportunity  of 
speaking  a  word  in  praise  of  them.  "  Two  nice 
little  girls  as  ever  I'd  wish  to  have  under  my  roof, 
miss,"  said  she,  "  'specially  the  afflicted  one.  And 
handy !  I  never  saw  a  woman  more  quick  in  put- 
ting herself  forward  to  help.  Many's  the  time  she's 
stirred  the  rice  for  me  whilst  I  frizzled  the  bacon  for 
my  husband  ;  and  as  to  peeling  the  potatoes,  I  might 
say  I  ha'n't  handled  one  since  she's  been  here.  She 
never  once  forgets  a  thing  you  tell  her,  either,  like 
so  many  gals.  As  to  Dick,  he  don't  know  how  to 
make  enough  of  her.  It's  just  as  if  she'd  tamed 
him,  miss — made  a  lamb  out  of  a  wolf,  as  you 
might  say.  And  yet  he  made  such  fun  of  her  the 
first  night  she  were  here.  I  thought  the  poor  little 
body'd  never  get  a  moment's  peace.  His  father 
said  to  me  when  Dick  were  gone  to  bed,  '  Look 
'ere,'  ses  he :  'if  Dick  can't  be  considerate  to  them 
as  is  misfortunate,  why,  he'll  get  a  taste  o'  strap, 
that's  all.'  But  bless  you !  Dick  ha'n't  needed  it ; 
and  he's  let  Tim  alone  the  whole  time  through,  and 
hardly  teased  him  once." 

"  And  they've  got  to  go  home  on  Monday,"  said 
Katie  ruefully. 

"  It  do  seem  a  pity,"  said  kind-hearted  Mrs.  Bull. 


A    SAD  LOSS.  105 

"  I  do  declare  I'll  ask  my  old  man  if  we  can't  give 
'em  a  couple  o'  days  more  out  of  our  own  pocket. 
The  parson  preaches  to  us  of  the  duty  of  giving  to 
the  heathen  far  away  in  distant  lands ;  but  /  say, 
'Charity  begins  at  home.'  Anyhow,  'twould  be  a 
downright  pleasure,  and  we'd  see  what  good  we're 
doin'  them" 

Katie  went  home  wishing  more  than  ever  that 
she  could  find  the  money  that  she  wanted.  "O 
Tom  ! "  cried  she,  kneeling  on  the  grass  beside  him, 
and  beating  down  a  worm-cast  with  the  handle  of 
his  crutch.  "  It's  all  no  use.  He  wouldn't  take  it ; 
and  they'll  have  to  go." 

"  Who  wouldn't  ?  Take  what  ?  Go  where  ? " 
queried  Tom. 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  you  didn't  know,"  said  Katie, 
colouring.  "  I  didn't  mean  any  one  to  know.  I 
wanted  Mr.  Brett  to  give  me  money  for  my  locket, 
to  pay  for  Tab  and  Zillah's  staying  here  another 
week." 

"  You  little  idiot !  "  cried  Tom,  with  more  force 
than  politeness.  "A  good  job  that  he  didn't;  you'd 
have  caught  it  awfulty." 

"  But,  you  see,  I  shall  never  care  for  it  again," 
said  Katie.  "  It's  pretty ;  but  of  what  real  use  are 
pretty  things  ? " 

"  You're  not  an  atom  like  a  girl,"  said  Tom,  right 
puzzled.  "  Girls  generally  hanker  after  finery." 


io6  A    SAD  LOSS. 

"  I  shouldn't  care  for  anything,  if  only  Tab  and 
Zill  could  have  another  week,"  said  Katie  sadly. 

Tom  was  silent,  looking  at  his  book.  Suddenly 
he  stretched  his  hand  out.  "Let's  see  what  the 
locket's  worth,"  said  he.  "  Perhaps  I'll  lend  you 
something  on  it.  I  shan't  want  all  rny  sovereign 
yet  awhile." 

"  O  Tom,  will  you  ?  "  Katie  cried.  "  I'll  save  up 
every  farthing  that  I  get,  and  pay  you  by  degrees. 
You  dear  old  Tom  !  " 

"  Of  course,"  said  Tom.      "  Let's  look." 

But  Katie's  face  was  blank  with  consternation 
and  dismay.  Her  hand  was  in  her  pocket,  and  she 
felt  and  felt  in  vain. 

"O  Tom!"  she  cried,  "what  shall  I  do?  It's 
gone.  My  locket's  gone  ! " 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
A   LETTER    TO  BERMONDSEY. 

A  HOLE  at  the  bottom  of  the  pocket  was  the 
cause  of  this  sad  loss.  Katie  turned  her 
pocket  inside  out,  and  sat  upon  the  grass  with  her 
finger  through  the  hole,  gazing  ruefully  upon  its 
emptiness. 

Tom  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  It's  gone,"  said 
he  ;  "  that's  certain.  Clean  gone  ! " 

"  What  shall  I  do  ? "  moaned  Katie. 

"  All  comes  of  being  like  a  boy,"  said  Tom 
consolingly.  "  I  daresay  that  old  knife  of  mine  has 
worn  the  hole." 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?"  repeated  Katie. 

"  Go  and  look  for  it,  first  thing,"  said  Tom. 
"  Perhaps  you'll  find  it  if  you  go  along  the  road 
you  came.  I'd  go  at  once,  if  I  were  you." 

"  Do  you  think  there's  any  chance  ?  "  cried  Katie, 
springing  to  her  feet. 

"  Might  be,"  said  Tom.  "  At  any  rate,  you 
needn't  set  up  a  howl  until  you've  looked."  So  off 


io8  A   LETTER   TO  BERMONDSEY. 

went  Katie,  with  her  whole  heart  in  her  eyes,  and 
searched  every  step  of  the  way  to  Mr.  Brett's,  and 
back  again  to  Mr.  Bull's,  even  up  the  garden-path 
and  into  the  front  sitting-room,  where  she  had  stood 
to  take  the  currant  jelly  out.  But  no  locket  was 
to  be  seen.  Katie  was  well-nigh  in  despair. 

"  You'll  make  it  public,  won't  you,  miss,"  said 
Mrs.  Bull,  "  and  offer  a  reward  ? " 

But  the  very  thought  of  it  made  Katie  hot. 
What  would  her  parents  say  ?  It  was  a  very 
heavy  heart  she  carried  home  with  her ;  for  she. 
had  meant  to  do  well,  and  just  because  she  had 
been  bent  on  doing  it  all  alone,  she  had  done  very, 
very  ill. 

Tom  guessed  at  a  glance  that  her  search  had 
been  in  vain.  "  Well,  that's  a  pretty  go  !  "  said  he. 

"  I  must  go  and  tell  mamma,"  said  Katie,  who 
had  not  the  least  thought  in  the  world  of  hiding 
what  she  had  done. 

Tom  said  nothing ;  but  he  felt  as  if  he  would 
rather  eat  his  own  head  than  have  such  a  terrible 
confession  to  make. 

Mrs.  Rivers  was  still  writing  in  the  dining-room 
when  Katie  went  in.  "  Well,  were  my  letters  in 
good  time  ? "  she  asked,  as  Katie  came  towards  her. 
"  I  had  meant  this  one  to  go  also,"  she  went  on  as 
Katie  told  her  "  Yes."  "  But  the  evening  post  will 
do.  It  is  for  Tab  and  Zillah's  father.  Guess  what 


A   LETTER   TO   BERMONDSEY.  109 

I  have  written,  Katie ;  I  know  you  will  be 
pleased." 

It  could  be  only  one  thing,  Katie  knew  ;  but  she 
positively  could  not  find  a  word  to  say,  she  was  so 
full  of  her  own  trouble. 

"  Why,  how  you've  hurried  ! "  her  mother  said, 
perceiving  something  was  amiss.  "  You're  quite  out 
of  breath,  and  in  such  a  heat." 

But  Katie  went  straight  to  the  point  at  once. 

"  0  mother ! "  she  cried,  "  I've  been  so  naughty, 
and  I  meant  to  be  so  good;"  and  thereupon  the 
whole  history  came  out. 

Mrs.  Rivers  looked  serious,  but  she  did  not  scold. 
"You  intended  to  do  well,  dear;  so  you  mustn't 
grieve.  But  it  was  a  pity  that  you  didn't  ask  me 
first,  for  you  see  I'd  thought  of  doing  the  very 
thing  you  wanted." 

Katie  burst  into  tears.  "I  wanted  the  money 
to  be  my  very  own,"  said  she,  between  her  sobs. 
"  And  now  I've  lost  the  locket  you  and  papa  gave 
me,  and  done  no  good." 

"Never  mind,"  her  mother  told  her  soothingly. 
"  The  best-intentioned  of  us  make  mistakes,  even 
your  papa  and  I  sometimes ;  and  you  will  be  the 
only  sufferer,  since  Tab  and  Zillah  are  to  have  the 
extra  week  just  the  same.  So  dry  your  eyes,  and 
after  tea  we  will  go  round  and  take  them  their 
good  news." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MIRIAM'S    WISH. 

NOTHING  further  was  heard  of  the  locket. 
Mr.  Rivers  reported  the  loss  at  the  police- 
station,  and  offered  a  reward ;  and  Katie  and  her 
mamma  made  numerous  inquiries  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, in  hopes  that  some  of  the  cottagers'  children 
might  have  lighted  on  it,  playing  up  and  down. 
But  all  to  no  effect ;  and  by  the  time  that  Tab  and 
Zillah's  extra  week  drew  to  a  close,  Katie  had  given 
up  all  hope  of  ever  seeing  it  again. 

Zillah  cried  at  the  prospect  of  leaving  her  happy 
dream  behind.  Tab  did  not  cry.  She  thought  less 
about  herself.  But  she  looked  at  Zillah  with  some- 
thing like  a  mother's  love,  wishing — oh,  so  ardently 
— that  she  could  stay  back  there,  among  the  flowers 
and  the  butterflies.  Only  she  would  have  hardly 
liked  to  trust  her  all  alone ;  for  Zillah  was  so  fond 
of  pretty  things  and  frolicking,  and  Tab  knew 
well  that  honest  girls  must  work. 

"She'd   make   a  tidy  servant,  now,  if  she  was 


MIRIAM'S    WISH.  in 

taught,"  said  Mrs.  Bull,  as  Tab  sat  talking  whilst 
she  ironed  up  the  clothes  that  she  had  washed  for 
them  to  take  home  clean.  "  Perhaps  another  year 
we  might  get  her  some  light  place  hereabouts,  where 
she'd  be  learning  under  my  eye." 

Tab  looked  eager.  "  I  wish  we  could,"  said  she. 
"  Would  anybody  really  take  her,  do  you  think  ? " 

"Why  not?"  said  Mrs.  Bull.  "She's  strong- 
looking  and  well-grown,  despite  her  many  hard- 
ships ;  and  many  ladies,  such  as  haven't  got  enough 
to  fill  their  time,  will  take  a  girl  like  her  to  train 
and  make  a  servant  of.  But  you'd  be  lonesome, 
like ;  for  you  ain't  strong  enough  to  take  a  place." 

Tab  shook  her  head.  "  That  wouldn't  matter 
much,"  said  she,  "  as  long  as  I  saw  Zillah  right. 
That's  all  I  want ;  and  then  I'll  pray  Almighty  God 
to  take  me  where  the  angels  are.  I  think  I  know 
just  what  it's  like  since  I've  been  here."  Just  like 
that  peaceful  country  place,  the  poor  child  thought, 
only  lovelier  and  more  peaceful,  if  that  could  be ; 
God  its  light,  and  angels,  with  their  golden  harps 
and  silver  wings,  instead  of  birds.  That  was  Tab's 
idea  of  heaven ;  and  she  was  content  to  wait  till 
God  should  call  her  there,  provided  only  Zill  grew 
good  and  happy. 

To  Dick  she  said,  "Now,  when  I'm  gone  you 
will  be  kind  to  Tim ;  now  won't  you,  for  my 
sake  ?  " 


ii2  MIRIAM'S    WISH. 

"  He'll  have  to  be  my  horse  again,"  said  Dick. 
For  Zillah  had  taken  poor  Tim's  place  the  most 
part  of  the  time,  and  Dick  had  found  her  much 
more  fleet. 

"  You  won't  be  cruel,  and  drive  hard,"  Tab 
pleaded,  with  her  hand  upon  his  sleeve. 

"  P'raps  ;  p'raps  not,"  said  Dick. 

"  But  he's  so  silly  and  so  weak — like  me,"  said 
Tab.  "  He  can't  go  fast  like  Zill.  God  made  him 
so.  You  will  be  kind  to  him." 

It  was  two  o'clock  when  she  and  Zillah  started 
home.  Mrs.  Rivers  went  wicn  them  to  see  them 
safe  into  their  father's  hands.  She  had  chosen 
afternoon,  so  that  they  might  have  a  good  dinner 
first,  and  they  took  a  large  bundle  of  warm  things 
for  the  winter  with  them,  besides  fresh  butter,  tea 
and  sugar,  new-laid  eggs,  a  piece  of  bacon  ready 
cooked,  and  other  sundries,  packed  together  in  a 
hamper  with  the  roots  and  seeds,  and  a  great  big 
posy  of  fresh-cut  flowers  on  the  lid.  Zillah  carried 
a  large  bunch  of  turnips  and  onions  which  Dick's 
father  had  given  her ;  and  Tab  hugged  in  her  arms 
a  pumpkin  marrow  Dick  had  begged  for  her,  to 
hang  till  winter-time.  And  so  they  took  their 
places  in  the  train,  and  waved  farewell  to  all  their 
many  little  benefactors,  who  had  flocked  to  see 
them  off. 

Miriam  and  Madge  Tewson  met  them  going  back. 


MIRIAM'S    WISH.  113 

Miriam  tossed  her  head,  and  looked  the  other 
way ;  but  Madge  stood  still  and  counted  them  aloud. 
"  Three-and-twenty,  I  do  declare  ! "  exclaimed  she  in 
a  mocking  tone;  "all  to  see  the  little  ragamuffins  off. 
Well,  I  hope  they  haven't  left  the  plague  behind." 

"  If  they  have,  I  hope  that  Tom  and  Katie  Rivers 
may  be  the  first  to  catch  it,"  said  Miriam. 

"  I  call  that  downright  wicked,"  said  a  boy  who 
was  walking  between  Katie  and  his  sister. 

"  Wishes  do  come  true  sometimes,"  added  the 
sister  in  a  serious  voice. 

"  Nonsense  ! "  said  Katie,  who  had  been  taught  to 
laugh  at  superstitious  notions.  "  I'm  not  afraid. 
It's  a  pity,  though,  that  Miriam  will  say  such  things, 
when  she  might  be  friends  all  round;"  and  she 
nodded  "  Good-bye." 

"  Say,  Kit !  "  broke  out  Tom,  as  they  sat  at  tea — 
Katie  pouring  out  in  Mrs.  Bivers's  stead — "  what  a 
jolly  thing  it  is  for  Miriam's  brother  that  she  hasn't 
got  one ! " 

Katie  laughed,  and  told  him  not  to  talk  such 
Irish. 

"  But  it  just  occurred  to  me,"  continued  Tom, 
"  what  a  cat-and-dog  life  they  would  lead." 

Katie  moved  her  spoon  round  slowly  in  her  cup, 
and  did  not  answer.  She  was  thinking. 

"  I  should  be  afraid  she'd  put  cold  poison  in  my 
tea,"  said  Tom. 

(.254)  o 


ii4  MIRIAMS    WISH. 

"  O  Tom  !"  cried  Katie ;  "  you  do  say  such  wicked 
things." 

"  Better  that  than  do  them,"  answered  Tom. 
"  That's  what  Miriam  would  like  to  do.  She'd  see 
me  with  the  plague  to-morrow,  if  she  could." 

Katie  shook  her  head.  "  She  doesn't  mean  one- 
half  of  what  she  says." 

"  She's  a  nasty,  disagreeable  thing,"  said  Tom. 

"  I  wish  she'd  had  a  brother,"  said  Katie,  thought- 
fully. "  It  must  be  very  bad  to  be  without." 

"  I'm  glad  I'm  yours  instead  of  hers,"  said  Tom ; 
"  that's  all ! " 

Mrs.  Rivers  always  left  a  little  feast  for  them  if 
she  went  out — some  sweet-cake  and  preserve  ;  and 
Susan  had  made  them  some  dough-nuts,  of  which 
both  children  were  particularly  fond.  But  Tom 
appeared  to  have  no  appetite.  "  I'm  shivering  all 
over,"  said  he  when  Katie  remarked  on  it. 

"  Oh,  Tom  !"  cried  she  ;  "  in  August !  After  that 
walk  through  the  sun,  too.  Eat  some  more.  You 
know  papa  says  food  is  like  fuel  to  the  engine  fire." 

But  Tom  shook  his  head,  and  pushed  away  his 
plate  with  the  unfinished  dough-nut  on  it. 

"  The  sight  of  it  makes  one  feel  bad,"  said  he. 
So  Katie  ate  no  more ;  and  very  soon  they  left  the 
table  and  went  out  of  doors.  Mrs.  Rivers  had 
given  permission  for  them  to  wait  up  till  her  re- 
turn, which  might  be  rather  late,  as  she  intended 


MIRIAM'S    WISH.  115 

going  all  the  way  to  Bermondsey ;  but  Tom  grew 
tired  of  sitting  up  as  soon  as  dusk  came  on.  He 
felt  so  drowsy,  and  his  head  began  to  ache. 

"  You'd  better  take  some  rhubarb,  hadn't  you  ? " 
suggested  Katie,  who  knew  her  mother's  remedies, 
and  never  stopped  to  think  about  a  nasty  dose. 
But  Tom  shuddered  and  shook  his  head,  and  said 
that  he  should  go  to  bed ;  so  Katie  went  up  too. 

Tom  slept  very  heavily  that  night,  and  when 
Katie  roused  him  next  morning  he  drowsed  off 
again.  It  was  rather  early,  for  it  was  Susan's  day 
out,  and  Katie  had  promised  her  some  flowers  to 
take  home.  Susan  lived  in  London,  and  her  parents 
always  looked  for  the  lovely  nosegays  she  brought 
home.  "  The  flowers  make  us  young  again,"  they 
said.  Katie  called  to  Tom  as  she  went  down ;  but 
still  he  did  not  rouse.  A  weight  was  on  his  head, 
and  all  his  limbs  seemed  made  of  lead.  Katie  cut 
the  flowers,  and  put  them  in  the  cool  in  water ; 
then  she  went  underneath  Tom's  window,  and  gently 
threw  little  bits  of  gravel  up  against  the  glass,  in 
hopes  of  attracting  his  attention.  She  wished  that 
he  would  come,  for  after  the  flowers  she  had  given 
Tab  and  Zillah  on  the  previous  afternoon,  she  had 
to  strip  her  garden-bed  to  get  a  bunch  for  Susan ; 
and  then  it  wasn't  half  so  nice  as  usual.  But  Tom 
drowsed  on  until  the  bell  rung  for  prayers,  and  still 
he  didn't  come  downstairs.  "Tom  can't  be  well," 


n6  MIRIAMS    WISH. 

said  Mrs.  Rivers,  looking  puzzled  ;  and  she  at  once 
went  to  his  room. 

She  came  down  with  a  serious  face,  to  mix  a 
dose  for  him.  "  Tom  doesn't  seem  at  all  the  thing," 
said  she. 

Susan  was  waiting  near  the  door  to  take  her 
place  for  prayers.  "  I'd  better  not  go  out  to-day, 
ma'am,  perhaps,"  said  she.  "  If  Master  Tom  is 
going  to  be  ill,  you  might  be  glad  of  me." 

But  Mrs.  Rivers  would  not  hear  of  disappointing 
her.  "  You're  a  good  girl,  Susan,"  answered  she ; 
"but  your  mother  is  expecting  you.  She -would 
think  that  something  was  the  matter  if  you  did  not 
come.  Besides,"  she  added  hopefully,  "  it  is  nothing 
serious.  Master  Tom  was  walking  in  the  sun  a 
good  while  yesterday.  Perhaps  that  was  the  cause. 
This  dose  will  set  it  all  to  rights." 

Susan  "  hoped  it  might ;  "  and  her  mistress  went 
upstairs  to  administer  the  potion. 

Directly  prayers  were  over,  Susan  bustled  about 
to  put  things  straight ;  then  quickly  changed  her 
working -dress,  and  hurried  down,  Katie  meeting 
her  at  the  foot  of  the  staircase  with  the  nosegay 
carefully  wrapped  round  in  damp  moss  and  water- 
proofed tea-paper  to  keep  it  fresh.  Half-an-hour 
later  Susan  was  well  on  her  way,  with  a  happy 
smile  upon  her  face  as  she  thought  of  her  mother 
hurrying  to  the  station  to  welcome  her.  Meanwhile 


MIRIAM'S    WISH.  117 

Katie  was  to  be  her  mother's  right  hand  for  the 
day ;  so  she  went  into  the  kitchen  to  see  what  she 
could  do.  But  Mrs.  Rivers  had  gone  up  to  see  to 
Tom,  who  seemed  getting  worse. 

"  Doctors  always  say  that  sickness  is  one  of 
nature's  remedies,"  said  she  to  Mr.  Rivers,  who  was 
starting  off  to  business.  "I  shall  let  it  take  its 
course  a  bit,  and  see  how  Tom  gets  on."  So  Katie, 
finding  that  her  mother  did  not  come,  drew  water 
from  the  boiler  to  wash  up  the  breakfast  things. 
It  was  the  first  time  she  had  attempted  such  a 
thing ;  but  Katie  was  a  handy  girl,  and  not  above 
a  servant's  work  because  her  mother  was  a  lady. 
She  had  just  finished  when  Mrs.  Rivers  came  down. 

"  Tom  is  asleep  now,"  said  she.  "  I  hope  he  will 
be  better  when  he  wakes,  or  I  shall  wish  that  Susan 
hadn't  gone." 

"  Oh,  but  think  how  disappointed  she  would 
have  been  ! "  cried  Katie.  "  And  there  really  isn't 
much  to  do.  I  can  answer  the  door  bell  whilst*  you're 
upstairs  with  Tom." 

"  There's  dinner  to  think  about,"  said  Mrs.  Rivers. 
"  One  thing,  there  is  cold  meat — 

"And  the  potatoes  are  already  scraped,"  said 
Katie,  thoughtful  as  a  woman ;  "  I  saw  them  in  the 
bowl.  And  let  me  make  the  pie,  mamma.  Oh, 
do !  perhaps  poor  Tom  would  eat  a  bit  if  he  knew 
that  it  was  mine." 


n8  MIRIAM'S    WISH. 

Mrs.  Rivers  had  intended  only  to  put  a  simple 
milk-pudding  in  the  oven,  as  she  always  did  on 
Susan's  holidays ;  but  finding  Katie  so  anxious  to 
make  a  trial  of  her  skill,  she  gave  permission ;  so 
with  the  article  on  pastry-making  open  before  her, 
Katie  set  to  work,  rolling  out  her  crust  most  care- 
fully, and  marking  it  in  scallops  round  the  edge. 
Very  well  it  turned  out,  too,  when  at  length  dinner- 
time arrived.  Mrs.  Rivers  praised  it  as  much  as  it 
deserved — which  was  saying  a  great  deal,  especially 
considering  Katie's  age  and  inexperience ;  but  Tom 
touched  not  a  bit.  His  head  was  splitting,  and  he 
was  weary  and  exhausted  with  the  sickness  and  the 
pain.  He  could  scarcely  bear  the  light,  nor  raise 
his  heavy  eyelids  ;  yet  sleep  seemed  to  have  deserted 
them.  He  lay  there  moaning  and  tossing,  hot  and 
shivering  alternately. 

Mrs.  Rivers  was  becoming  more  and  more  alarmed. 
She  took  her  needlework  and  sat  up  in  his  room, 
leaving  Katie  to  pack  away  the  dinner  things  in 
the  scullery;  and  so  the  afternoon  wore  on.  At 
length  she  went  downstairs  again  to  Katie,  who 
was  just  about  to  lay  the  cloth  for  tea. 

"  I  think  Tom  ought  to  have  a  doctor,  Katie 
dear,"  said  she.  "  I'm  afraid  that  he  is  going  to  be 
seriously  ill." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

KATIE'S    FEAR. 

ATIE  looked  up  with  a  very  frightened  face. 
Miriam's  words  about  the  plague  flashed 
through  her  head.  "  I  hope  that  Tom  and  Katie 
Rivers  may  be  the  first  to  catch  it,"  Miriam  had 
said. 

"  You  had  better  run  and  see  if  Digby  has  gone 
home,"  Mrs.  Rivers  went  on.  "  If  not,  send  him  up 
to  Dr.  Furnace's  at  once.  I  wish  that  your  papa 
were  here.  But  he  is  stock-taking,  you  see,  and 
will  be  late  again  to-night." 

Katie  ran  away  with  the  message,  calling  Digby 
as  she  went ;  but  she  searched  the  premises  in  vain. 
The  man  had  already  gone  home  to  his  tea. 

"  And  won't  be  back  until  it's  time  to  put  the 
pony  to,  to  fetch  your  papa  from  the  station,"  said 
Mrs.  Rivers.  "I  wish  that  Susan  had  not  gone 
to-day." 

"  Let  me  run  for  Dr.  Furnace,"  said  Katie  eagerly. 

"  It's  such  a  long  way  for  you  by  yourself,"  ob- 


120  KATIE^S  FEAR. 

jected  her  mamma ;  "  and  dusk  comes  on  so  quickly 
these  late  summer  evenings." 

"  I'll  run  every  step  of  the  way,  mamma,"  urged 
Katie.  "  Do  let  me  go !  It  may  be  too  late  if  we 
delay." 

Mrs.  Rivers  smiled,  in  spite  of  her  own  fears. 
"  Tom  isn't  quite  so  bad  as  that,  I  hope,"  she  an- 
swered reassuringly.  "  Still,  I  would  rather  Dr. 
Furnace  saw  him  before  morning ;  he  seems  so 
feverish." 

"  Then  do  let  me  go,"  begged  Katie.  "  I  promise 
you  I'll  run." 

So  Mrs.  Rivers  gave  consent.  "  Only  there's  no 
necessity  to  run,"  said  she.  But  anxiety  lent  wings 
to  Katie's  feet,  and  she  sped  swiftly  along  the  lane 
and  up  by  the  plantation,  where  the  birds,  too  busy 
over  family  considerations  all  day  long,  were  gos- 
siping among  the  boughs. 

Katie  did  not  hear  them,  for  Miriam's  words  were 
in  her  ears ;  she  had  not  even  time  to  stop  and 
reason,  or  she  would  have  recognized  how  ridiculous 
it  was  to  think  that  God  would  let  her  school- 
fellow's wish  work  mischief  against  Tom.  But 
Katie  thought  of  nothing  but  Tom's  danger.  A 
blackbird  even  flew  across  the  road,  not  half-a-dozen 
yards  ahead,  with  a  startled  "  Quivit !  quick  !  quick  ! 
quick ! "  But  she  hardly  noticed  it.  Her  mind 
was  full  of  that  one  thought. 


KATIE'S  FEAR.  121 

Miriam  was  inside  the  garden  gate  with  Madge, 
as  she  ran  by,  and  stared  to  see  her  flying  past  at 
such  a  rate.  "  Have  you  lost  anything  ? "  she  called 
out  in  a  jeering  tone.  " '  K.  K. — careless  Katie.' 
Have  it  cried." 

"  '  Oh  yes ;  lost  my  wits' ! "  added  Madge,  raising 
her  voice  in  imitation  of  the  old  town-crier.  But 
Katie  did  not  heed.  On  she  sped,  past  the  farm- 
yard gate,  past  the  church,  and  down  the  hill,  pant- 
ing and  breathless,  without  a  respite,  till  the  steep 
ascent  up  the  other  side  forced  her  to  slacken  pace. 

Mrs.  Bull  was  in  the  honeysuckle  porch  as  Katie 
came  in  sight,  toiling  up  the  road.  She  stepped 
outside,  and  leisurely  came  down  the  path  to  meet 
her.  "  Did  they  get  home  safe,  miss,  our  two  little 
gals  ? "  asked  she  when  Katie  got  quite  close.  But 
Katie's  panting  breath  and  hot,  flushed  face  told 
plainly  that  something  was  the  matter. 

"  Who's  been  frightening  you,  missie  ? "  she  asked 
before  Katie  had  'time  to  answer  her  other  question. 
"  Come  inside  a  bit." 

But  Katie  shook  her  head.  "  I've  been  running, 
Mrs.  Bull;  that's  all,"  cried  she.  "Tom's  ill,  and 
Susan's  out;  I'm  fetching  Dr.  Furnace  in  a  hurry." 

"  Bless  the  dear  young  lady,  what  a  heat  you're 
in  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Bull ;  "  you'll  do  yourself  a  mischief 
running  so.  Now  you  come  in  and  rest,  and  Dick 
shall  run  for  you." 


122  KATIE'S  FEAR. 

But  Katie  would  not  rest  until  her  message  was 
delivered  ;  and  on  she  went,  resuming  her  quick  pace 
so  soon  as  ever  she  had  gained  the  brow  of  the  hill. 
Five  minutes  later  she  had  rung  the  surgery  bell, 
and  was  waiting  breathlessly,  with  throbbing  pulses 
and  trembling  limbs,  to  know  if  Dr.  Furnace  was 
at  home.  Luckily  he  was.  "  How  fortunate  you 
came  just  now  ! "  said  he.  "  There's  nothing  like 
being  in  good  time  with  the  physic.  I've  only 
just  come  in,  so  the  horse  is  still  in  the  shafts.  Sit 
down  and  rest  a  minute,  whilst  I  take  a  cup  of  tea, 
and  we'll  ride  back  together." 


CHAPTER    XX. 

SUSAN  GIVES   GOOD  ADVICE. 

POOR  Tom  had  typhoid  fever.  For  a  fortnight 
Dr.  Furnace  came  to  see  him  twice  a  day, 
and  there  was  terrible  anxiety  throughout  the  house. 
Mrs.  Rivers  was  in  his  sick-room  night  and  day,  and 
Katie  had  to  shift  as  best  she  could,  making  her 
papa's  tea  of  a  morning,  sitting  down  alone  to  her 
solitary  dinner,  and  going  to  bed  in  the  dusk  with- 
out her  mother's  good-night  kiss.  No  wonder  she 
was  miserable.  She  had  not  seen  Tom  since  he  was 
taken  bad,  and  she  often  cried  herself  to  sleep, 
thinking  how  he  might  never  speak  to  her  again. 

Susan  found  her  so,  one  night,  lying  with  her 
face  buried  in  the  pillow,  sobbing  as  if  her  heart 
would  break.  Now  Susan  was  a  simple-hearted, 
Christian  girl.  "  Miss  Katie,  darling,  don't  take  on 
like  that,"  said  she.  "  Master  Tom'll  get  well  yet, 
please  God." 

But  Katie  still  sobbed  on.  "  It's  all  that  wicked 
Miriam,"  cried  she.  "  I  hate  her,  that  I  do." 

"  Why  Miss  Miriam  ? "  asked  Susan  in  surprise. 


124  SUSAN  GIVES  GOOD  ADVICE. 

"  What  can  Miss  Miriam  have  to  do  with  Master 
Tom's  falling  ill  ?  " 

"  She  said  she  hoped  he  would,"  sobbed  Katie ; 
and  by  degrees  she  got  the  whole  history  out,  be- 
tween her  sobs,  of  what  Miriam  and  Madge  had  said 
about  the  plague. 

"  You  silly  goose ! "  said  Susan,  coaxingly,  near 
crying  too,  for  sympathy,  to  tell  the  truth.  "  He's 
got  typhoid  fever,  not  the  plague." 

"  She  didn't  mean  the  plague,  I  don't  suppose," 
sobbed  Katie.  "  She  didn't  much  care  wrhat  he  had, 
so  long  as  he  was  bad." 

"  And  if  she  did,"  rejoined  the  maid,  "  what  dif- 
ference would  it  make,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  Fevers 
don't  depend  upon  ill-natured  children's  whims  and 
wishes,  I  should  hope.  Now  just  stop  crying,  and 
dry  your  eyes  and  think." 

Katie  checked  her  sobs  immediately,  half  ashamed. 
"  What  made  the  fever  come,  then  ? "  asked  she  in 
a  tearful  voice,  trying  to  look  up. 

Susan  sat  down  on  the  bed.  It  was  very  late, 
and  she  was  tired,  for  illness  makes  a  deal  of  work. 
"  You  see,  I  don't  know  very  much,"  said  she,  "  be- 
cause I  don't  read  many  books.  Your  papa  could 
tell  you  better ;  but  I  know  it  wasn't  anything  to 
do  with  what  Miss  Miriam  wished." 

"  She  was  nasty  about  our  having  Tab  and  Zillah 
down,  you  know,"  explained  Katie,  trying  to  steady 


SUSAN  GIVES   GOOD  ADVICE.  125 

her  voice ;  "  because  Tom  made  her  angry  teasing 
her,  and  so  she  wouldn't  help.  She  never  speaks  to 
either  of  us  now." 

"  Very  silly  and  unchristian,  too,"  said  Susan, 
smothering  a  yawn.  "  You  see,"  she  went  on  pres- 
ently, "as  to  how  and  why  fevers  come.  I  don't 
think  God  would  be  unfair  enough — if  that's  a  word 
I  may  use  with  proper  reverence  about  Almighty 
God — to  put  'em  in  the  hands  of  spiteful  people, 
just  like  weapons  to  do  harm  with.  I  shouldn't 
love  God  if  I  thought  he'd  do  like  that ;  should  you, 
Miss  Katie  dear  ? " 

Katie  answered  "  No,"  and  sobbed  a  little  more. 

Do  you  think  Tab  and  Zillah  could  have  brought 
the  fever  down?"  she  asked  by-and-by,  sitting  up  in 
bed.  "  The  slum  they  live  in  is  a  nasty,  dirty  place, 
you  know,"  she  added,  just  a  trifle  doubtfully. 

But  Susan  shook  her  head.  "  The  fever  Master 
Tom's  got  ain't  like  scarlatina,"  answered  she. 
"  Nurse  was  telling  me  so  yesterday.  She  says 
that  it  comes  from  drinking  bad  water,  and  from 
nasty  smells,  and  that  people  don't  catch  it  from 
each  other's  clothes,  but  because  they  smell  the 
same  bad  smells,  and  get  their  drinking  water  from 
the  self-same  pump.  That's  why  I've  got  such 
particular  orders  as  to  all  the  drinking  water  being 
boiled.  It's  to  be  hoped  no  more  of  us  will  take 
it,  too." 


126  SUSAN  GIVES   GOOD  ADVICE. 

"And  Tab  and  Zillah,"  added  Katie,  thinking 
what  a  sad  end  to  their  holiday.  "  Poor  Tab  and 
Zillah  couldn't  have  such  nursing  as  Tom  has." 

"But  God  takes  care  of  the  poor,"  said  Susan 
trustfully.  "  He  wouldn't  let  'em  have  a  holiday 
to  go  back  ill." 

"  And  now  I'm  off  to  bed,"  said  Susan  presently ; 
"and  mind  you  go  to  sleep.  Your  pillow  is  sopped," 
she  added,  turning  dry  side  upward,  and  laying  the 
bedclothes  straight.  "  Now  when  I'm  gone,  if  I 
were  you  I'd  get  out  of  bed  and  say  my  prayers 
again ;  and  then  I'd  go  right  off  to  sleep,  and  leave 
the  rest  to  God.  Depend  upon  it,  he  knows  better 
what's  the  best  for  Master  Tom  than  you  or  I." 

Next  morning  Tom  was  pronounced  out  of  danger. 
The  crisis  had  passed  during  the  night,  and  the 
doctor  said  that  all  would  now  be  well.  Katie  had 
to  run  away  to  hide  her  tears  of  joy  when  first  she 
heard  the  news,  but  Susan  took  no  pains  to  hide 
her  own.  "  I  said — please  God — that  he'd  get  well," 
said  she ;  "  and,  Miss  Katie,  I  asked  again  about  the 
way  the  fever  comes.  I  asked  the  doctor  this  time ; 
so  it  must  be  right.  He  says  it's  something  wrrong 
about  the  drains ;  and  when  Master  Tom  is  strong 
enough,  we're  all  to  go  away  and  have  'em  set  to 
rights.  So  Tab  and  Zillah  ain't  to  blame ;  nor  yet 
Miss  Miriam — only  for  the  will,  not  for  the  deed." 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

MIRIAM'S  EYES  ARE   OPENED. 

THAT  morning  was  the  first  day  of  the  autumn 
term  at  school.  Katie  set  out  with  a  light 
heart.  She  had  seen  Tom,  and  though  terribly 
shocked  at  his  wasted  appearance,  she  knew  that 
he  was  safe,  as  he  had  smiled  at  her. 

She  sang  for  joy  as  she  ran  down  the  drive  ;  and 
all  the  birds  seemed  singing  too — the  robins  in  par- 
ticular, for  it  was  now  the  middle  of  September. 

Miriam  was  on  in  front,  but  guessing  who  was 
following  her,  she  took  care  not  to  turn  her  head. 
But  Katie  was  far  too  happy  to  feel  annoyed. 
Miriam  had  changed  .her  shoes  and  got  into  her 
place  when  Katie  walked  up  the  schoolroom  to 
speak  to  Miss  Ansell. 

"  '  K.  K. — careless  Katie,'  "  whispered  Madge,  loud 
enough  for  all  the  girls  to  hear. 

"  She's  going  to  be  put  down,  I'll  be  bound,"  said 
Miriam,  as  Katie,  after  standing  by  the  desk  in 
conversation  with  Miss  Ansell  several  minutes, 
turned  back  to  take  her  place.  Her  eyes  were 


128  MIRIAM'S  EYES  ARE   OPENED. 

moist  and  her  face  flushed,  for  she  could  not  tell 
her  good  news  about  Tom  without  a  little  cry. 
Now  Miriam  had  been  away  a  week  or  two,  and 
did  not  know  about  the  danger  Tom  had  been  in ; 
and  seeing  Katie's  troubled  look,  concluded  it  was 
due  to  something  Miss  Ansell  had  said.  But 
Miriam  proved  wrong,  for  Katie  was  moved  up 
instead  of  down,  and  school  commenced. 

Miriam  did  so  much  whispering  and  tittering  that 
morning  that  she  was  kept  behind,  and  even  Madge 
went  off  without  her.  When  at  last  she  came  out 
to  the  cloak-room  for  her  hat,  she  found  Katie  still 
there.  "  I  thought  I'd  wait  for  you,  Miriam,"  said 
she.  "  It's  so  dull  to  go  home  all  alone." 

"  You're  very  kind,  K.  K.,"  said  Miriam  sarcastic- 
ally ;  "  but  I'm  sure  you  need  not  have  troubled." 

Miriam  was  fumbling  at  her  shoes,  trying  hard  to 
do  the  buttons  up  with  her  fingers. 

"  You've  left  your  hook  at  home  ! "  cried  Katie, 
pulling  one  out  of  her  pocket.  "  Use  mine." 

But  Miriam  shook  her  head.  "  No,  thank  you, 
Kate,"  said  she,  getting  up  to  reach  her  hat,  with 
only  half  the  buttons  done.  "  I  never  borrow  other 
people's  property." 

Katie  tried  again,  determined  to  make  peace,  if 
possible.  It  seemed  so  terrible  to  think  how  the 
"  sun "  of  poor  Tom's  life  had  nearly  "  set  upon 
their  wrath  ; "  and  in  her  joy  and  thankfulness  for 


MIRIAM'S  EYES  ARE   OPENED. 


129 


his  recovery  she  was  ready  to  do  anything  to  win 
Miriam  back.  "  Won't  you  be  friends  with  me  to- 
day, Miriam  ?  "  said  she,  stooping  to  pick  up  a  glove 
which  Miriam  had  dropped. 

"  I'm  in  a  hurry,"  answered  Miriam,  snatching  at 
the  glove  without  a  word  of  thanks,  and  pushing 
past  her  to  the  door. 

"  I've  waited  on  purpose,  so  that  I  might  walk 
with  you,"  said  Katie  coaxingly.  "  I  want  to  tell 
you  something." 

"  It'll  keep  till  some  other  time,  I'll  be  bound," 
said  Miriam  carelessly,  still  pushing  on.  "  Some 
people's  secrets  aren't  worth  hearing.  Perhaps 
you've  got  your  locket  back  ?" 

"  It's  about  Tom,"  said  Katie,  hurrying  after  her. 

"  He's  been  punished  long  enough,  I  suppose," 
said  Miriam.  "  Is  he  sorry  yet  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Katie.  "  He  was 
wrong  at  the  first,  of  course ;  I  told  him  so.  But 
I  wanted  you  to  know  how  ill  he  has  been.  He 
nearly  died  last  night.  Miriam  !  don't  you  care  ?  " 
and  Katie's  voice  trembled  so  that  even  Miriam,  in 
her  heart  of  hearts,  was  softened.  But  pride  still 
whispered,  "  What  do  you  care  if  he  has  been  ill, 
or  nearly  died  ?  What  is  he  to  you  ?  He  has 
offended  you  ;  and  you  don't  care  a  pin  for  him." 

"  What's  that  to  me  ! "  cried  she  aloud. 

"  O  Miriam  ! "    cried    Katie  ;    "  don't   you    really 

(251)  9 


130  MIRIAM'S  EYES  ARE   OPENED. 

care  ?  You  didn't  surely  mean  it  when  you  said 
you  wished  he'd  catch  the  plague  ?  Do  let  me 
come  and  walk  with  you." 

Miriam  still  hurried  on ;  but  conscience  smote 
her.  She  remembered  her  own  words  quite  well — 
"What  if  Tom  had  really  died!"  Still  pride 
whispered,  "  Don't  let  Katie  see  j'ou're  sorry." 
"Tom's  a  nasty,  disagreeable  boy,"  said  she.  "I 
hate  you  both." 

"  Tom  teased  you  once,"  said  Katie,  hurrying 
after  her.  "  But  I  think  if  you  were  ill,  instead 
of  him,  he  would  be  ready  to  forgive  you  and  be 
friends." 

Uncle  Merry's  words  came  back  to  Miriam. 
"  Now  when  I'm  gone,"  her  great-uncle  had  said, 
"just  think  what  you  can  do  to  show  Tom  that 
you're  ready  to  be  friends."  And  that,  in  turn, 
brought  back  to  mind  how  generously  Tom  had 
risked  himself  to  save  her  from  the  adder.  But 
for  Tom  she  might  have  been  a  cripple  now ;  or 
worse  still,  cold  and  stiff  beneath  the  cold,  dark 
earth  out  in  the  churchyard  yonder.  Miriam 
shuddered.  Somehow  she  could  not  think  about 
the  brighter  side  of  death  just  then.  She  knew 
she  had  been  wrong;  and  only  those  who  copy 
Christ  can  feel  that  death  is  passing  into  life. 

"  He  wouldn't  like  to  have  been  teased  himself," 
said  she.  "It  isn't  nice."  But  she  slackened  pace; 


MIRIAM'S  EYES  ARE   OPENED.  131 

and  Katie,  with  one  bound,  was  at  her  side,  and 
slipped  a  hand  into  her  arm. 

"  Do  let's  be  friends  again,"  she  begged.  "  I 
think  if  you  would  come  half-way,  and  let  Tom 
see  you  wanted  to,  he'd  make  it  up,  and  say  that 
he's  most  sorry." 

"  All  very  fine  !  "  grumbled  Miriam,  "  when  he's 
most  in  the  wrong."  That  word  "most"  slipped 
out  unawares.  Miriam  did  not  mean  to  admit  that 
she  was  in  the  wrong  at  all ;  but  her  better  nature 
took  her  off  her  guard,  and  spoke  the  truth. 

"  Tom  was  wrong  first,"  said  Katie  ;  "  but  then 
you  never  thanked  him  when  he  sprained  his  foot 
in  saving  you.  And  you  don't  know  how  much 
he  suffered." 

Miriam  had  not  cared  a  bit  about  it  at  the  time. 
Her  mother  had  spoken  seriously  of  her  ingratitude, 
but  all  to  no  effect ;  and  since  she  had  almost  for- 
gotten about  it.  But  now  she  seemed  to  see  it  in 
a  different  light,  and  she  was  sorry  all  at  once. 

"  Poor  Tom  !  "  said  she,  quite  gently.  "  All  for 
me  !  Poor  Tom  !  " 

That  afternoon  Miriam  started  earlier  than  usual 
for  school,  in  order  that  she  might  run  up  the  lane 
to  Katie's  first,  to  call  for  her ;  and  in  her  hand  she 
took  two  lovely  tea-rosebuds,  the  pride  and  glory  of 
her  bush. 

"  These  are  for  Tom,"  said  she. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

TOM'S   GOOD   FAIRY, 

THE  two  girls  were  firm  friends  after  this; 
and  every  morning  Miriam  ran  down  the 
lane  to  take  a  nosegay  of  fresh  flowers  for  Tom. 

At  present  Tom  was  far  too  weak  to  notice 
much;  but  Miriam  was  content  that  they  should 
stand  by  his  bedside,  so  that  when  he  came  to  ask 
who  gathered  them  he  might  know  she  wanted  to 
make  friends.  At  length,  one  morning,  when  he 
was  getting  better,  Katie  went  upstairs,  as  usual, 
with  Miriam's  flowers.  Tom  was  propped  up  on 
his  pillows,  taking  some  beef -tea.  It  was  the  first 
time  he  had  been  able  to  hold  the  cup  to  his  own 
lips.  His  eyes  brightened  as  Katie  entered. 

"  They  are  nice,"  said  he,  in  his  poor,  weak  voice. 

"  I'm  glad  you  like  them,"  answered  Katie,  cheer- 
fully, with  a  meaning  glance  up  in  her  mother's  face. 

"  They  smell  so  sweet,"  said  Tom ;  "  and  it's  so 
nice  to  have  fresh  ones  every  day.  I'm  so  tired 
of  all  the  things  in  this  old  room." 


TOM'S   GOOD  FAIRY.  133 

"  I  didn't  know  you  noticed  anything,"  said  Katie, 
looking  down  affectionately  at  his  thin,  pale  face. 
"  It  shows  you're  getting  better  fast." 

Tom  was  certainly  much  better,  and  making 
good  progress.  He  had  not  tried  to  talk  of  any- 
thing till  then,  but  had  only  just  lain  still  and 
taken  what  they  gave  him  with  a  smile.  But  now 
it  seemed  as  if  he  had  roused  to  life  again.  "  Roses, 
too,"  said  he.  "  Where  did  you  get  those  orange- 
coloured  ones  ?  We  haven't  any  like  them  in  the 
garden." 

"  Miriam  brought  them  for  you,"  answered  Katie. 

"  Miriam  ?  "  echoed  Tom. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Rivers,  coming  to  the  bedside 
for  the  empty  cup.  "  It  is  Miriam  who  has  brought 
the  flowers  every  day.  But  you  see  we  were  so 
quiet  about  the  name  of  your  good  fairy,  that  you 
never  suspected  who  she  was." 

Tom's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  He  was  still  so 
weak  that  the  news  was  almost  more  than  he  could 
bear.  His  mother  feared  it  was  exciting  him  too 
much. 

"  You  will  soon  be  strong  enough  to  thank  her 
for  yourself,"  said  she.  "  But  Katie  must  not  keep 
her  waiting  any  longer  now,  or  they  will  both  be 
late  for  school."  So  Katie  said  good-bye,  and  ran 
downstairs. 

As  soon  as  she  was  gone  Mrs.  Rivers  re-arranged 


134  TOM'S   GOOD  FAIRY. 

the  pillows,  so  that  Tom  could  lie  clown ;  and  Tom 
shut  his  eyes,  and  lay  so  still  that  his  mother  thought 
he  was  asleep,  and  went  downstairs.  But  Tom  was 
not  asleep.  He  was  only  tired  with  the  effort  he 
had  made ;  and  as  he  lay  he  was  thinking  about 
Miriam.  She  wanted  to  be  friends ;  he  was  quite 
sure  of  that,  and  he  could  not  but  be  glad.  And 
yet  just  one  thing  troubled  him.  If  Miriam  made 
up  the  quarrel  while  he  lay  there  quite  incapable 
of  teasing  her  or  doing  any  harm,  would  it  not 
make  him  look  rather  small  ?  Tom  wanted  it  made 
up,  but  pride  was  in  the  way.  He  had  risked  his 
life  to  save  her  from  the  adder  all  to  no  purpose ; 
and  now  that  he  was  weak  and  ill,  he  did  not  choose 
to  be  forgiven  for  the  little  wrong  that  he  had 
done  her  in  the  spring-time  long  ago.  Had  he 
stopped  to  think,  he  would  have  recognized  that 
forgiveness,  in  itself,  is  far  more  noble  than  any 
show  of  greatness  such  as  pride  would  prompt  him 
to  maintain ;  because,  to  be  like  Christ  is  the 
greatest  thing  that  any  one  can  do.  And  Christ 
forgave  his  enemies. 

Katie  went  and  sat  a  long  while  by  Tom's  bed- 
side that  evening.  Now  that  he  was  fairly  con- 
valescent, she  might  talk  to  him ;  and  though  Tom 
was  not  strong  enough  at  present  to  talk  much,  it 
amused  him  to  listen  to  all  she  had  to  chat  about. 

That  very  morning,  as  it  chanced,  too,  she  had 


TOM'S   GOOD  FAIRY.  135 

seen  a  squirrel  in  the  plantation.  "  He  ran  up 
the  very  tree  where  you  cut  your  initials,"  said  she. 

"  That  was  in  the  Easter  holidays,"  said  Tom ; 
"  and  now  it's  autumn.  What  a  time  it  seems  since 
I  went  out !  " 

"  And  what  a  lot  youVe  grown  these  last  six 
weeks  !"  added  Katie.  "  People  always  do  in  fevers ; 
so  I've  heard." 

Tom  lay  still  awhile.  "  Katie  ! "  said  he  pres- 
ently. 

Katie  looked  up  from  her  work. 

"  I  almost  wish  that  Miriam  hadn't  brought  me 
flowers  every  day." 

"  Why,  Tom  ? "  asked  Katie,  in  surprise.  "  I 
thought  you'd  be  so  pleased." 

"  Only,"  reasoned  Tom,  "  it  makes  me  look  so 
small,  just  as  if  she  pitied  me,  now  I'm  so  ill." 

"  I  don't  think  that  matters  one  single  bit,"  said 
Katie. 

"You  see,"  continued 'Tom,  "I  ivas  in  the  wrong 
a  little  bit  at  first.  I  oughtn't  to  have  teased  her 
when  I  saw  she  took  it  so ;  but  she  was  horribly 
ungrateful  afterwards,  and  it  doesn't  look  very  nice 
for  her  to  come  and  forgive  me  when  I  can't  move 
hand  or  foot.  It  makes  me  look  so  small,"  repeated 
Tom. 

"You  mean  that  you  would  rather  have  gone 
to  her,  and  asked  her  to  forgive  you  whilst  you 


136  TOM'S   GOOD  FAIRY. 

were  quite  strong,  and  able  to  go  on  teasing  if  you 
chose,"  said  Katie. 

But  Tom  shook  his  head.     "  I  couldn't  go  so  far  > 
as  that"  said  he.      "  That  would  be  humbling  my- 
self a  little  too  much.     It  isn't  even  as  if  she  were 
a  boy." 

Tom's  pride  was  far  from  conquered  yet. 

Katie  cast  about  to  think  what  she  could  say  to 
change  his  mind.  "  We  ought  not  to  be  proud,  Tom," 
said  she.  "  Papa  read  at  prayers  this  very  morning 
how  God  resists  the  proud ;  and  Christ  forgave  his 
enemies.  You  would  really  be  the  greatest  that 
way,  after  all." 

Tom  lay  still,  and  said  no  more. 

"  Mamma  was  saying,"  Katie  went  on,  by-and-by, 
"  that  if  you  are  as  much  better  to-morrow  as  she 
expects,  you  may  perhaps  get  up  a  little  while. 
Then  Miriam  might  come  and  give  you  the  flowers 
herself.  May  she  ? "  Katie  added  timidly. 

Tom  hesitated  half  a  minute ;  then  he  answered, 
"  If  she  likes ;  but  mind,  I've  no  intention  of  beg- 
ging her  pardon,  or  doing  anything  of  that  sort." 

Poor  Tom  !  how  sad  to  have  such  a  mountain  of 
pride  to  overcome. 

Next  morning,  however,  Miriam  did  not  come  as 
usual.  The  sky  was  rather  threatening,  and  Katie 
accounted  for  the  fact  in  that  way,  thinking  that 
she  had  been  anxious  to  get  to  school  before  the 


TOM'S   GOOD  FAIRY.  137 

wet  came  on.  But  Miriam  was  not  in  her  place  at 
school ;  and  when  Katie  went  to  see  what  was 
amiss,  she  found  her  lying  on  the  sofa,  feeling  very 
ill. 

"  I'm  glad  that  it's  half-holiday,"  said  she.  "  To- 
morrow I  shall  be  all  right,  no  doubt ;  and  I  shall 
have  a  lovely  rose  for  Tom." 

"  Mamma  says  you  may  give  it  him  yourself 
to-morrow  afternoon,"  said  Katie,  as  she  bade  good- 
bye. 

But  Miriam  did  not  come,  for  she  got  worse 
instead  of  better ;  and  by  next  afternoon  she  was 
seriously  ill. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

AS  FIRE  MELTS   THE  DROSS  AWAY. 

TOM  went  on  improving  very  rapidly.  Once 
he  got  on  to  the  sofa  he  was  able  to  get 
up  for  a  little  every  day.  Of  course  he  tired  very 
quickly.  At  first  he  had  to  be  carried  from  his 
bed,  and  could  not  talk  for  long,  nor  hold  a  book ; 
but  all  he  wanted  was  to  build  up  the  strength  the 
fever  had  consumed,  and  considering  the  quantities 
of  good  things  that  Tom  devoured,  it  was  not 
surprising  that  the  work  went  on  so  fast.  At 
length  the  doctor  said  he  might  go  out  a  little  in 
the  middle  of  the  day. 

Torn  was  longing  to  be  out  once  more,  and  Katie 
was  quite  ready  to  push  the  old  chair  round  the 
garden  paths,  and  up  and  down  the  lane.  But 
just  as  this  permission  came  the  weather  closed  in 
wet. 

Meanwhile  Miriam  had  been  worse  than  even 
Tom.  The  same  infection  which  had  poisoned  Mr. 
Rivers's  \vell  had  poisoned  Mr.  Grayson's  too.  For 


AS  FIRE  MELTS   THE  DROSS  AWAY.      139 

many  days  poor  Miriam  had  lain  in  the  very  jaws 
of  death.  At  length  one  night,  however,  her  de- 
lirium subsided,  and  she  sank  into  a  sleep  so  still 
and  death-like  that  parents,  nurse,  and  doctor 
watched  by  her  with  bated  breath.  All  through 
the  night  and  all  next  day  they  watched  her,  whilst 
the  rain  beat  mournfully  against  the  window  pane, 
as  if  the  skies  were  sorrowing  for  their  grief.  More 
than  once  the  doctor  held  a  mirror  to  her  lips,  to 
see  if  she  still  breathed ;  and  more  than  once  he 
feared  the  heart  had  ceased  to  beat.  But  at  last, 
when  evening  came,  just  as  the  rain  ceased,  and  the 
setting  sun  broke  out,  her  eyelids  opened,  and  she 
drew  a  long,  deep  breath,  then  fell  into  a  sweet, 
refreshing  sleep.  And  they  thanked  God,  knowing 
she  was  saved. 

Katie  was  sitting  near  the  window  in  Tom's 
room,  learning  a  lesson,  when  the  cloud  lifted. 
"  You  will  be  able  to  go  out  to-morrow,  Tom," 
said  she,  looking  up  from  her  book  ;  and  she  went 
on  planning  all  that  they  would  do,  until  it  grew 
dark,  and  Mrs.  Rivers  came  up  with  a  light  to  help 
Tom  into  bed. 

She  had  not  long  left  him,  with  the  bell-rope 
handy  on  his  pillow,  in  case  he  wanted  anything, 
when  Katie  came  upstairs  again  and  crept  into  the 
room  tiptoe. 

"  Are  you  awake,  Tom  ? "  whispered  she. 


140     AS  FIRE  MELTS    THE  DROSS  AWAY. 

Tom  answered  "  Yes,"  and  moved  his  head  up 
on  the  pillow,  wondering  what  she  could  want. 

"  I  came  to  tell  you,  Tom,"  said  Katie,  "  Susan 
has  been  to  inquire  how  Miriam  is.  She's  safe, 
Tom.  Oh  !  I  am  so  glad ;  aren't  you  ?  She'll  get 
well  now." 

To  Katie's  infinite  surprise,  Tom  hid  his  face  in 
his  pillow  for  a  minute,  then  burst  out  crying.  He 
too  had  been  near  death,  and  knew  the  utter  help- 
lessness of  being  very  weak.  And  he  was  so  thank- 
ful Miriam  had  not  died  before  he  had  a  chance  of 
making  up  their  quarrel.  Katie  laid  her  cheek 
against  his  hair,  and  cried  some  tears  of  gladness 
too,  and  by-and-by  Tom  raised  his  head  again. 

"  Now  I  know  God  answers  prayer,"  said  he, 
when  he  could  find  his  voice,  "  because  he's  answered 
mine." 

"  And  mine,"  his  sister  answered  softly,  Avith  her 
arm  still  round  his  neck. 

Ah  !  Tom  had  learned  to  pray,  not  on  his  knees, 
since  he  had  been  too  weak  to  kneel,  and  very 
different  prayers  from  those  he  used  to  gabble  over, 
night  and  morning,  when  he  was  in  health.  God 
teaches  us  by  suffering  sometimes,  as  the  fire  melts 
the  dross  away  and  makes  the  metal  pure. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
THE  NEW  SCHEME. 

THE  girls  at  school  had  been  terribly  shocked 
at  the  news  of  Miriam's  illness,  but  now 
that  she  was  safely  on  the  road  to  convalescence, 
they  laughed  and  chattered  merrily  once  more,  as 
school -girls  do.  Only  Madge  seemed  dull  and 
wretched  still.  She  came  and  went  alone,  and  no 
one  seemed  to  care  for  her. 

Katie  mentioned  it  to  Miriam,  one  day  when  she 
went  to  sit  with  her. 

"  It  seems  too  bad  by  half,"  said  Katie,  as  they 
talked.  "  It  isn't  Christian  to  treat  her  so ;  and 
yet  it's  her  own  fault,  as  much  as  any  one's." 

"I'm  most  to  blame,"  said  Miriam  penitently. 
"I  made  her  wild  against  you — her  and  Terry 
Grainger — and  then  the  girls  took  up  your  side, 
and  made  us  worse  than  ever.  But  she  never  would 
have  quarrelled  with  you  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me." 
So  Miriam  had  her  punishment  to  bear,  like  all  who 
cherish  evil  tempers ;  and  thus  the  weeks  went  on. 


142  THE  NEW  SCHEME. 

Meanwhile  another  scheme  was  being  set  on 
foot. 

It  was  first  canvassed  in  Mrs.  Grayson's  sitting- 
room,  where  Miriam,  still  very  weak,  was  lying 
on  the  couch.  "  The  girls  all  want  to  know  what 
we  can  do  for  charity  this  Christmas -time,"  said 
Katie,  coming  in  one  afternoon,  as  she  so  often  did, 
upon  her  way  from  school.  "  Can  you  suggest  ?  " 

"A  Christmas  dinner,"  answered  Miriam  promptly. 
"  Nice  roast-beef  and  hot  plum-pudding  for  a  hun- 
dred children.  Coiild  we  manage  it  ?  " 

Katie  didn't  know.  "  The  girls  all  want  to  do 
something  for  Tab  and  Zillah  Wimbly,  who  were 
here  last  summer,"  said  she.  "We've  got  an  interest 
in  them,  you  see." 

Miriam  saw  the  force  of  Katie's  argument  at 
once.  "  And  I  may  help  this  time  ? "  said  she. 

"  Of  course,"  answered  Katie,  giving  her  hand  a 
squeeze.  "  I  wonder  what  we  could  collect  ?  " 

"  A  lot,"  said  Miriam,  "  if  everybody  gave  up 
Christmas-trees.  And  who  wants  Christmas-trees 
when  there  are  children  starving  ?  I  wish  I  hadn't 
bought  that  stupid  locket  with  the  money  Uncle 
Merry  gave  me,"  she  went  on  presently. 

"  Lockets  aren't  of  much  use,  after  all,"  said 
Katie,  sighing,  with  a  thought  of  her  sad  accident. 
"  I've  been  just  as  happy  without  mine — that  is, 
I  should  have  been  if  I  had  never  had  it  to  lose." 


THE  NEW  SCHEME.  143 

Mrs.  Grayson  came  in  just  then,  and  heard  what 
they  were  talking  about.  "  I  know  what  I  should 
recommend,"  said  she.  "  If  you  children  can  collect 
enough,  why  not  purchase  a  stocking -knitter  for 
Tab  and  Zillah,  and  so  put  them  in  the  way  of 
earning  money  for  themselves  ?  " 

So  the  girls  were  taken  into  council,  and  a  price- 
list  was  obtained,  and  the  stocking-knitter  found  to 
be  within  their  reach.  "  Whatever  else  we  get 
beyond  the  price  of  it,"  they  all  agreed,  "shall  go 
towards  some  Christmas-dinner  fund." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

UNCLE  MERRY'S  BAND. 

MIRIAM'S  recovery  was  very  slow  and  tedious. 
She  had  been  much  worse  than  Tom,  and 
her  strength  was  longer  coming  back.  But  she  had 
little  chance  of  being  dull,  the  girls  were  all  so 
kind.  Madge  Tewson  was  the  only  one  who  did 
not  come. 

"  I  can't  think  why  she  has  deserted  me,"  Miriam 
often  said  to  Katie.  "  We've  been  such  friends — 
especially  since  I  quarrelled  with  you  and  Tom." 

"  Perhaps  she's  vexed  you  made  it  up  with  us," 
suggested  Katie. 

"  Or  thinks  that  I  don't  want  her  now,"  said 
Miriam ;  and  she  tried  to  send  her  messages  by 
Katie  and  the  other  girls.  But  Madge  took  care 
that  none  of  them  should  have  a  chance  of  giving 
messages.  She  kept  all  to  herself,  and  never 
spoke  to  any  one  if  she  could  help.  Poor  Madge 
was  very  wretched,  if  they  had  but  known  the 
truth. 


UNCLE  MERRY'S  BAND.  145 

About  the  middle  of  November,  Great-uncle  Merry 
came  to  see  how  Miriam  was  getting  on. 

"  There's  room  for  Tom  and  Katie's  '  fresh-air 
mission '  here,"  said  he,  on  finding  she  was  strong 
enough  to  be  moved. 

"  O  Uncle  Merry  ! "  Miriam  laughed.  "As  if  / 
had  need  of  charity." 

"  Of  course  you  have,"  replied  her  uncle  cheerily. 
"  We  all  have  need  of  charity  ;  for  '  charity '  is  love, 
you  know, — not  always  giving  alms,  but  just  the 
love  that  goes  about  this  earth,  endeavouring  to 
make  the  crooked  places  straight,  and  drive  away 
the  clouds,  and  scatter  seeds  of  kindness  '  for  our 
reaping  by-and-by.' 

"  You  see,"  continued  Uncle  Merry,  "  there  are 
heaps  of  people  haven't  got  the  smallest  coin  to 
spare  to  do  a  deed  of  what  commonly  goes  by  the 
name  of  '  charity.'  But  they  can  give  kind  words 
and  gentle  deeds,  if  they  have  loving  hearts  inside 
their  breasts,  and  be  no  whit  the  poorer  for  it  all 
the  while.  Now  I  know  fifty  little  children  near 
my  home  who  go  about  in  this  way  doing  charity. 
They  pick  up  little  toddlers  who  have  tumbled 
down,  and  wipe  away  their  tears ;  they  dance  the 
baby  when  he's  fretful  with  a  tooth  and  mother's 
arms  are  tired  out  with  nursing  him.  They  warm 
their  father's  slippers  when  he  comes  home  cold 
from  work.  They  leave  off  in  the  middle  of  a  game 

(254)  10 


146  UNCLE  MERRY'S  BAND. 

to  help  an  old  man's  load  up  on  his  back.  They 
return  soft  answers  in  place  of  crabby,  sour  ones, 
and  give  their  teachers  just  as  little  trouble  as  they 
can.  They  do  more  good,  and  make  more  sunshine 
in  their  little  world,  without  a  penny  of  their  own, 
than  many  grown-up  people  do  with  all  the  gold 
and  silver  they  possess." 

"  What  children  are  they,  Uncle  Merry  ?  "  asked 
Miriam. 

"  Just  little  boys  and  girls,  six,  eight,  ten,  twelve, 
who  live  in  courts  and  alleys  near  my  home,"  Great- 
uncle  Merry  answered.  "  Poor  people's  children, 
mostly,  too.  Their  fathers  are  bricklayers,  painters, 
porters,  carpenters,  day-labourers,  who  get  what  work 
they  can,  and  sometimes  none  at  all.  Their  mothers 
wash,  and  scrub,  and  sew,  to  help  pay  rent  and 
firing  and  food.  Some  have  sick  fathers  or  mothers ; 
some  have  none  at  all.  Some  few  are  comfortably 
off,  and  one  or  two  are  almost  rich,  but  they  are 
thought  no  more  of  than  the  rest.  They  all  are 
simply  '  Band  of  Kindness  '  children — pledged  to  do 
whatever  little  acts  of  love  and  help  they  can  to  all 
with  whom  they  have  to  do." 

"  Was  that  what  you  were  thinking  of  that  day 
when  I  told  you  about  Tom  Rivers,  Uncle  Merry  ? " 
asked  Miriam.  "  You  said  that  you  would  like  to 
see  us  '  Band  of  Kindness '  children." 

"  Quite   right,"  replied   her   uncle.      "  I   recollect 


UNCLE  MERRY'S  BAND.  147 

quite  well.  It  came  into  my  head  that  many  of 
my  hard-worked,  ill-fed  little  friends  would  put  you 
two  to  shame,  with  your  many  great  advantages, 
and  your  disagreeable  tempers." 

"  O  Uncle  Merry ! "  cried  Miriam,  with  tears 
starting  to  her  eyes,  "  we  have  made  it  all  up  now." 

"  And  right  glad  I  am  to  hear  it,"  returned  Uncle 
Merry  heartily.  "I  hope  you  won't  unmake  it, 
again  by  any  accident ;  and  as  I'm  a  member  of  the 
Band  of  Kindness  too,  I  won't  say  any  more  •tmkind 
things  about  it." 

"  Uncle  Merry  ! "  said  Miriam  suddenly,  "  could 
we  have  a  Band  of  Kindness  here  ? " 

"Why  not?"  asked  Uncle  Merry.  "Wherever 
there  are  children  there  can  be  a  '  band.'  For  band 
means  'union,'  you  know.  It  means  that  you  all 
join  together  and  try  to  keep  before  each  others 
minds  the  loveliness  and  happiness  of  doing  good. 
My  little  children  meet  each  Sunday  morning  whilst 
the  big  folks  are  at  church,  and  tell  each  other 
what  they  have  been  doing  all  the  week.  Some- 
times they  have  sad  tales  to  tell,  of  how  the  bad 
part  of  them  got  the  upper  hand  and  made  them 
selfish  and  UTikind ;  but  they  like  to  tell  each 
other,  so  they  say,  because  it  makes  them  feel 
ashamed,  and  then  they  try  so  much  the  harder  all 
next  week." 

"  But   we're   all   comfortably   off,"   said    Miriam. 


148  UNCLE  MERRY'S  BAND. 

"We  don't  have  things  to  make  us  wicked  and  bad- 
tempered,  like  your  poor  children  do." 

"  That's  very  true,"  returned  her  uncle  ;  "  so  you 
ought  to  have  fewer  tales  of  failure  to  relate.  But 
perhaps  that's  just  the  very  snare  wherein  your 
danger  lies.  You  know,  it's  just  when  people  think 
themselves  the  most  secure  that  they're  most  off 
their  guard.  Remember  that !  But  don't  you  re- 
collect that  text  about  '  making  a  great  feast '  ? 
'  Call  the  poor,  the  maimed,  the  halt,  the  blind,'  Christ 
said.  And  I  should  like  to  say  the  same  about 
your  '  band.'  Don't  keep  it  to  yourselves.  Get  poor 
children  to  join.  You  know  many  '  halt,  and  maimed, 
and  blind ; '  some  whose  tempers  trip  them  up  at 
every  step ;  some  whose  hands  have  never  learned 
to  serve  the  Master  by  these  gentle  little  deeds  of 
every  day  that  make  life  sweet ;  some  whose  eyes 
want  opening  to  the  great  reward  that  comes  to  all 
who  seek  not  their  own  but  others'  happiness.  Get 
them  to  join  your  band." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

WON  OVER. 

A  WEEK  later  Miriam  and  her  mamma  accom- 
panied Great-uncle  Merry  to  the  sea.  "  What 
will  your  '  Band  of  Kindness '  children  do  without 
you,  Uncle  Merry  ?  "  Miriam  said,  flying  across  the 
country  in  the  train. 

"  They  know  a  certain  little  sick  girl  needs  my 
kindness  just  now,"  replied  her  uncle,  "  so  they're 
'  kind '  enough  to  do  without  me  for  a  little  while. 
They  are  very  fond  of  me,  but  they  are  not  selfish, 
don't  you  see,  because  they're  '  Band  of  Kindness ' 
children." 

"  Fond  of  you !  I  should  think  they  are,  you 
dear  old  Uncle  Merry ! "  Miriam  exclaimed. 

Miriam  was  obliged  to  have  a  chair  at  first, 
because  she  could  not  walk ;  but  very  soon  the  sea- 
air  made  her  ravenous, — and  when  the  appetite  re- 
turns, strength  very  quickly  follows.  In  a  fort- 
night's time  she  was  almost  as  well  as  she  had  ever 
been — only,  like  Tom,  very  tall  and  thin. 


350  WON  OVER. 

Meanwhile,  Tom  and  Katie  worked  away  for  the 
"  Band  of  Kindness  "  with  a  right  good-will.  A 
number  of  the  boys  and  girls  from  both  their  schools 
enrolled  their  names  at  once ;  and  each  one  under- 
took to  bring  some  other  to  the  opening  meeting, 
when  Miriam's  Uncle  Merry  had  promised  to  be  there, 
to  give  them  a  fair  start  and  draw  up  the  rules. 

Tom  undertook  to  ask  Dick  Bull. 

"  You  fought  him  once,  to  teach  him  to  be  kind 
to  Tim,"  said  Katie.  "But  I  fancy  Tab  did  far 
more  by  her  gentleness.  He  hasn't  teased  him  half 
so  much  since  she  was  here,  so  Mrs.  Bull  was  telling 
me  the  other  day." 

Then  Katie  had  to  choose  whom  she  would  ask ; 
being  one  of  those  brave  people  who  never  shun 
hard  tasks,  she  chose  Madge.  "  I'll  keep  on  trying 
till  I  win  her  over,"  Katie  said. 

The  first  thing  was  to  get  the  chance.  A  long 
while  Katie  watched  in  vain  for  it ;  but  all  comes 
in  good  time  to  those  who  wait.  One  very  gusty, 
rainy  morning,  Katie,  coming  home  from  school, 
caught  sight  of  Madge  ahead.  She  quickened  pace, 
in  hopes  of  catching  up  with  her ;  but  Madge  was 
hurrying,  so  that  Katie  almost  had  to  run  to  gain 
upon  her  ever  such  a  little. 

It  was  blowing  quite  a  "  capful,"  as  the  sailors 
say,  which  made  it  difficult  to  push  along  so  fast. 
Every  now  and  then  she  had  to  stop  and  let  the 


t 

WON  OVER.  151 

gusts  go  by;  and  once  or  twice  her  umbrella  narrowly 
escaped  turning  inside  out.  But  then,  of  course, 
Madge  had  the  same  difficulties  to  contend  against, 
so  that  the  odds  were  pretty  fair.  At  length,  how- 
ever, her  footsteps  reached  Madge's  ear,  and  she 
looked  round  to  see  who  might  be  following  her. 

Now  Madge  was  at  a  sharp  bend  in  the  road, 
and  she  forgot  that  when  she  turned  the  corner  the 
wind  would  blow  the  other  way.  Just  when  she 
was  completely  off  her  guard  the  gust  tore  up,  with 
all  the  mischief  that  a  gust  can  boast,  rushed  under 
her  umbrella,  till  all  the  spokes  bent  backward  like 
reeds  before  the  flood,  and  seizing  on  her  hat,  in  less 
than  no  time  had  it  whisked  from  off  her  head,  and 
capering  along  towards  Katie  through  the  puddles. 
At  the  same  instant  the  strap  she  carried  in  her 
other  hand  gave  way,  and  all  her  books  went 
tumbling  in  the  mud. 

Such  a  picture  of  vexation  and  dismay  it  is 
difficult  to  conceive :  the  wrecked  umbrella  utterly 
refusing  to  come  down;  the  hat  escaping  like  a 
mad  thing  from  a  cage ;  poor  Madge — her  hair  all 
streaming  in  the  wind  and  wet — completely  stupi- 
fied,  not  knowing  where  to  turn  or  what  to  do. 

Katie  dodged  the  hat,  and  caught  it  cleverly; 
but  it  was  too  bedrabbled  for  any  head  to  wear. 
"What  will  you  do  ?  "  cried  she,  now  joining  Madge. 
'•'•  Come  under  my  umbrella.  You  must"  she  cried, 


152  WON  OVER. 

as  Madge  refused.  "  Pick  up  the  books  ;  there's 
room  for  some  of  them  in  my  satchel.  Oh  !  never 
mind  the  mud.  Mine  are  all  covered ;  so  it  won't 
soil  them."  And  chattering  on  good-naturedly,  she 
soon  had  half  of  them  put  up. 

"  You  must  carry  these,"  she  added — "  so.  Now 
take  my  arm,  and  keep  as  close  against  me  as  you 
can,  and  we  shall  get  along  quite  well." 

Madge  scarcely  spoke  a  word  the  whole  way 
home,  and  that  afternoon  she  did  not  go  to  school. 
Her  mother  thought  that  one  such  wetting  was 
enough  in  one  short  day ;  besides,  she  Tiad  no  hat 
except  her  Sunday  one.  But  next  morning  Katie 
found  Madge  waiting  in  the  cloak-room  for  her. 

"  I've  covered  all  your  books  for  you,"  said  Katie, 
as  she  put  her  satchel  down  ;  "  they  were  hardly 
soiled  inside.  How's  your  hat  ?  " 

But  Madge,  instead  of  answering,  held  out  a  little 
packet  towards  her.  "  I  never  meant  to  be  so 
wicked,"  she  stammered  out ;  "  indeed,  indeed  I 
didn't !  I  found  it  on  the  road  near  Mrs.  Bull's, 
and  thought  I'd  keep  it  back  a  little,  just  to  tease. 
I  thought  it  would  be  fun.  But  afterwards  I  got 
ashamed,  and  the  longer  I  delayed  the  worse  it  was; 
and — there  it  is ;  and  please  forgive  me,  Katie,  and 
get  them  all  to  let  me  join  the  '  band.' " 

Katie  gave  a  cry  of  glad  surprise.  It  was  her 
lost  locket,  safe  and  sound.  And  Madge  was  won. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
A   MERRY  CHRISTMAS. 

CHRISTMAS-EVE  had  come,  and  it  was  nearly 
dark. 

The  night  before,  an  inch  or  two  of  snow  had 
fallen ;  but  it  lay  only  upon  the  roofs  and  round 
the  ledges  of  the  chimney-pots.  In  the  roadways 
and  on  the  pavements  traffic  and  foot-passengers  had 
worn  it  into  cold,  wet  slush.  At  dusk,  however, 
the  clouds  rolled  back,  a  crust  formed  on  the  slush, 
and  there  was  every  prospect  of  a  bitter  night. 

Tab  was  looking  out  across  the  whitened  tiles, 
when  Zillah  climbed  the  stairs.  There  was  a  gleam 
of  firelight  in  the  room — a  luxury  not  always  to  be 
met  with  in  a  garret  such  as  theirs ;  but  Tab  had 
turned  away  from  that.  She  was  thinking  of  the 
Christmas-eve  before,  when  there  was  not  a  bit  of 
fire  in  the  grate,  and  nothing  but  dry  bread  to  eat 
• — nor  much  of  that.  Tab's  was  a  grateful  soul. 

Zillah  burst  in,  full  of  life.  "  My  !  the  shops  are 
lid,  Tab,"  cried  she.  "Such  a  flare  of  gas, 


154  A   MERRY  CHRISTMAS. 

and  beef  and  geese  and  turkeys  all  made  fine  with 
coloured  ribbons — blue  and  red.  You  can  warm 
your  hands  there  while  you  look.  And  dolls,  and 
toys,  and — "  Zillah  ran  on  with  a  list  of  all  the 
wonders  she  had  seen.  "  My  feet  ain't  cold  a  bit 
to-night,"  she  added,  glancing  at  her  slushy  boots, 
"  although  it  is  so  dirty  underfoot." 

Tab  glanced  down  at  the  boots,  which  were  stout 
and  strong.  "  Lots  of  other  people's  are,  to-night," 
said  she.  "  God's  very  good  to  us,  Zill,  ain't  he  ? " 

Zillah  didn't  answer  this  remark.  "  I  saw  some 
lovely  pudding  in  a  window,"  she  ran  on — "  all 
plums,  and  steaming  hot.  Tab,  shouldn't  you  just 
like  a  slice  ?  " 

"  P'raps  father'll  bring  some,  if  he's  lucky  getting 
jobs,"  said  Tab. 

"  Most  people  have  got  something  good  to-night," 
said  Zillah,  hooking  up  her  jacket  on  a  nail  behind 
the  door.  "  They'll  go  out  with  their  baskets  pres- 
ently, and  spend." 

"Not  all,"  said  Tab.  "We  hadn't  anything  to 
spend  last  year.  Some  haven't  this  year,  either." 

Just  as  Tab  said  these  words  a  sound  of  footsteps 
on  the  stairs  attracted  their  attention.  "  There's 
dad,"  cried  Zillah  eagerly,  running  to  the  door. 
Perhaps  Tab  had  asked  him  to  buy  some  pudding 
for  a  treat.  Zill's  mouth  had  watered  when  she 
saw  it  steaming  there  behind  the  glass. 


A   MERRY  CHRISTMAS.  155 

Tab  went  to  get  the  candle  down ;  but  Zillah 
uttered  an  astonished  cry.  It  was  not  her  father's 
footsteps  they  had  heard.  Cautiously  feeling  his 
way  up  in  the  dim  light  of  the  staircase  was  a  man 
whom  Zillah  did  not  know.  He  had  a  deal  box 
on  his  shoulder,  and  a  hamper  in  one  hand. 

"  Tab  and  Zillah  Wimbly  ? "  asked  he,  stopping 
at  the  door ;  then,  as  Zillah  nodded,  he  came  right 
in  and  set  his  load  down  on  the  floor.  "And  a 
merry  Christmas  to  you  wi'  'em,"  he  added,  as  he 
turned  to  go.  "  There's  summat  good  inside,  that 
many  folks'd  envy  you  to-night." 

"  Let's  wait  till  father  comes,  to  open  'em,"  was 
Tab's  idea ;  but  Zillah's  fingers  couldn't  wait.  She 
was  already  on  her  knees,  and  pulling  at  the  knots. 

Zillah  clapped  her  hands,  and  Tab's  eyes  filled 
with  tears,  at  sigTit  of  all  the  things  they  found 
inside.  Tea  and  sugar,  butter,  oatmeal,  bacon,  cheese; 
a  Christmas  pudding,  raisins,-  figs,  nuts,  oranges  ;  and 
on  the  top  a  lovely  Christmas  card. 

"  What's  in  the  box  ? "  cried  Zillah  next.  But 
that  was  fastened  up  with  nails  instead  of  string. 
They  tried  to  force  it  open  with  a  fork;  but  the 
nails  were  in  too  deep.  Tab  got  the  little  iron  bar 
that  served  as  poker ;  but  that  was  twice  too  thick 
to  go  into  the  crack. 

Just  then  a  gentle  rap  came  at  the  door.  There 
stood  a  white-headed  old  gentleman,  who  looked  as 


156  A   MERRY  CHRISTMAS. 

if  the  snow  had  settled  on  his  beard  and  hair ;  but 
yet  his  face  was  cheery  as  the  summer  sky  as  he 
stepped  in. 

"  A  merry  Christmas  to  you  both,  my  dears,"  said 
he.  "  I  see  you've  got  your  packages  all  right. 
I've  come  to  tell  you  which  to  eat." 

It  was  Miriam's  great -uncle  Merry,  who  had 
undertaken  the  purchase  of  the  stocking -knitter, 
and  followed  in  its  train  to  explain  its  use  and 
show  them  how  it  worked. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

"PEACE  ON  EARTH,  GOOD  WILL  TOWARD 
MEN:' 


HRISTMAS  morning.  Miriam  had  looked  at 
V,  __  /  all  her  Christmas  cards,  and  breakfasted, 
and  fed  the  birds  that  flocked  down  to  the  kitchen 
door  for  crumbs  ;  then,  cozily  wrapped  up,  she  ran. 
out  in  the  cold,  keen  air. 

Great-uncle  Merry  was  expected  by-and-by,  tc 
eat  his  Christmas  dinner  with  them  ;  but  he  had 
helped  to  give  breakfast  to  some  hundred  little  waifs 
and  strays  that  morning,  so  he  could  not  come  until 
the  mid-day  train. 

First  Miriam  went  and  looked  at  all  her  hen- 
house pets.  She  found  them  fluffed  up  like  great 
feather  balls  in  a  sheltered  nook  where  they  could 
see  the  sun,  although  it  failed  to  reach  them  with 
its  feeble  rays.  "  You'd  better  run  about  by  half, 
you  silly  things  !  "  said  she,  scattering  them  right 
and  left.  Then  off  she  tripped  to  follow  out  her 


158  PEACE  ON  EARTH. 

own  advice,  whilst  the  hens  crept  back  indig- 
nant to  their  strip  of  sunshine  underneath  the 
fence. 

Every  splash  of  water  in  the  stable-yard  was 
frozen  solid,  and  a  fringe  of  white  was  on  each 
jutting  ledge.  The  frost  had  seized  upon  the  damp 
that  rose  at  sunset  overnight,  and  fixed  it  there. 
It  glistened  in  the  light  like  powdered  diamond. 
Every  grass  blade  in  the  field  was  white  with  it ; 
and  the  path,  which  yesterday  was  thick  with  mud, 
was  firm  and  hard  as  a  rock.  Miriam  ran  to  the 
plantation  gate,  unlatched  it,  and  slipped  through. 
She  had  not  been  there  since  her  birthday  picnic 
party  ended  so  unhappily.  But  there  was  no  fear 
of  adders  now.  The  dry  leaves  crackled  under  foot, 
the  bare  boughs  overhead  were  hung  with  icicles 
like  fairy  stalactites,  and  Miriam's  voice  rang  out 
among  the  trees  for  very  joy  of  heart.  For  the 
winter  sky  was  blue  above  her  head,  and  she  was 
well  and  strong  again. 

"  Dick  and  Harry  and  Tom," 

she  sang — 

"  Dick  and  Harry  and  Tom, 
They  teased  the  dog,  and  worried  the  cat, 
And  drowned  the  kittens  in  their  grandfather's  hat, 
Did  Dick  and  Harry  and  Tom." 

Suddenly  Miriam  stopped  short.  She  had  not 
been  thinking  what  she  sang.  The  plantation  had 


PEACE   ON  EARTH.  159 

somehow  put  the  words  into  her  head.  But  as  she 
stopped  another  voice  took  up  the  tune. 

"  Kit  and  Mirry  and  Tom," 

it  sang — 

"  Kit  and  Mirry  and  Tom, 
They  teased  each  other  instead  of  the  cat, 
And  lived  ly  the  rule  of  '  tit  for  tat,' 
Did  Kit  and  Mirry  and  Tom." 

And  up  jumped  Tom  Rivers,  with  both  arms  on  the 
fence,  and  Katie  at  his  side. 

But  Tom  and  Katie  were  not  Miriam's  only 
audience. 

"  Nice  young  people  to  be  starting  a  Band  of 
Kindness,"  called  Uncle  Merry's  voice  jocosely  from 
the  plantation  gate. 

The  brave  old  gentleman,  having  caught  an 
earlier  train,  had  just  arrived,  and  finding  his 
nephew-in-law  out  and  Mrs.  Grayson  busy  with 
cook,  he  had  come  to  look  for  Miriam  to  take  him 
for  a  walk,  to  whet  his  appetite  for  dinner. 

Ten  minutes  later  Tom  and  Katie  had  been  in- 
doors with  them  to  have  some  biscuits  and  warm 
milk;  and  the  four  were  on  the  road — a  happy 
quartet.  They  talked  of  Uncle  Merry's  "  band," 
and  of  his  waifs  and  strays,  and  heard  of  Tab 
and  Zillah's  great  delight  at  all  the  good  things 
they  had  sent,  not  least  of  all  the  stocking-knitter, 
by  means  of  which  they  hoped  to  earn  so  much. 


160  PEACE   ON  EARTH. 

Gradually  the  sun  rose  higher  in  the  sky,  and 
smiled  across  the  frost-bound  earth,  till  icicles  and 
frost-work  all  gave  way  before  his  smile.  And 
Uncle  Merry  said  that  it  was  like  the  smile  of  love, 
that  melts  the  frost  of  selfishness  and  scatters  seeds 
of  kindness  in  dark  lives — the  Love  that  came  into 
this  world  that  Christmas  morn  when  angels  sang 
their  song  of  "  peace  on  earth." 


THE    END, 


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